


Opportunities Keep Giving

by leathansparrow



Series: Opportunity-verse [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fix-it fic, M/M, Multi, One-Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leathansparrow/pseuds/leathansparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, the unexpected survival of Uchiha Itachi has far reaching effects on an undecided future. </p><p>A series of one-shot companion pieces to the AU fix-it A Gift of Opportunity written in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Underneath the Underneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto follows Itachi on one of his earlier cases and gets a glimpse of Kakashi’s new investigative pilot program.

Naruto doesn’t claim to be observant. Or good at noticing subtle changes or how people feel at a given moment. He isn’t, however, totally oblivious.

Especially when it comes to his friends. 

So of course he notices when Uchiha Itachi starts working for the Hokage.

Three years have passed since Kaguya. Since every building event of his childhood finally came to an explosive head. It’s different now, in a lot of ways. Learning to work with an artificial arm is weird and it took awhile but he’s mostly got the hang of it. 

Learning to live with everyone when there isn’t some fate-turning adventure on the horizon, that’s harder. 

But he guesses that gives him more time actually keep track of what his friends are up to.  
He’s with Hinata and Kiba when he sees the first hints. They’re at the park playing catch with Akamaru, which involves a lot more hide-and-seek and chakra use than it would with a normal dog. Still shy, Hinata none-the-less has the confidence now to laugh when she tosses the ball to Naruto, to smile with that genuine, gentle, sun-bright smile of hers and giggle when Naruto hops to the side, nearly trips, and tumbles to grab it. 

The Hinata he knew before wouldn’t have teased him. Even just by giggling when he makes a silly mistake. She’d have been too shy to. That she can now makes Naruto feel like he knows her better than he ever has. 

He has a moment to appreciate it before Akamaru tackles him to get the ball and his Bunshin poofs away. He launches the ball in his real hand at Kiba, who grabs it easily with one hand and launches it back so hard it stings when Naruto catches it. He shakes his hand out, tosses it to Hinata, and catches a glimpse of dark clothing out of the corner of his eye.

Itachi rarely dresses noticeably. He still prefers dark-shaded clothing that you could pick up at any thrift store. Nothing custom made as far as Naruto can tell. Naruto isn’t sure how much he actually cares what he looks like. Sakura insisted on getting him a long coat last year when she discovered his birthday, but that is the only thing he wears that is any kind of distinctive. 

(Naruto’s pretty sure they never would have figured out his birthday without Sakura sneaking into his hospital medical records, because neither he nor Sasuke are ever going to care or tell.)

It isn’t normal to see Itachi walking the streets with a purpose unless he’s shopping for supplies. Naruto’s watched him do that. He’s fast and efficient; doesn’t pause at all to talk with anyone more than is necessary to be polite, doesn’t waste his time looking at anything he doesn’t need. Naruto wonders if that’s because he notices the stares he gets as he goes about his business or if that’s just how he is.

The glimpse Naruto catches of Itachi this time is of him lingering outside a small business. The owner, standing at the front, looks nervous. She obviously recognizes him.

Then she looks confused as he shows her something.

Then she looks intrigued. 

Naruto finds himself intrigued as well. 

“Are you going to talk to Mr. Uchiha?” Hinata asks. 

Naruto jumps. He finds her next to him, watching quietly. “What’s he doing?” She can see better than him if she looks.

And she’s willing to grant his unspoken request. Her Byakugan activate. “He’s shown her the Hokage’s seal. I believe that’s Ms. Eki.”

“Didn’t that guy in the mask show up there a couple weeks ago?” Kiba’s got his hand on Akamaru’s head. He joins them, curious. “Her and some other folks. I think the guy went to Ino’s shop once too. Something about protection, like she needs it.”

Protection? The wheels in Naruto’s head turn. Why would some guy in a mask be bugging people offering them protection? They’re in downtown Konoha. How much protection can someone need? 

Suddenly he wants to find out. “I’m going to ask him.”

Hinata catches his arm gently. “Wait until he’s finished talking to her,” she warns him. The way she smiles is the gentlest anyone has ever held him back from doing something reckless. Works the best too. Jittery and impatient, Naruto shuffles his feet but he does as she asks. 

When Itachi leaves the woman’s house, Hinata lets him go with a smile and not the small push Sakura would have given him. Instead she tells him “good luck, Naruto,” and Naruto waves back at her as he scampers down the street after his second wayward Uchiha. 

\----------

“Watch’a doing?”

Itachi senses Naruto at his side before he speaks, which allows him to cover any sign of surprise at Naruto’s presence. Naruto would love to figure out a way to startle him, but ever since he left the hospital, Itachi’s been way too on his game to be surprised by just about anything short of….

Okay he still looks a little awkward and confused every time he gets stuck hanging out with Naruto and his friends so maybe he can be surprised. And maybe he can be forced to admit it. But not out here on the street.

“The Hokage has given me a mission,” he replies simply.

“Ah, so Kakashi asked you huh?” Naruto gets the impression that Itachi is a little annoyed at him for knowing exactly what he’s talking about. It’s not like his facial expression changes or anything, just there’s this little second pause and a subtle something in his eyes that Naruto chooses to read as “wanted to explain it myself damn you” instead of “leave me alone I hate you.” It’s hard to tell with Uchihas, but Naruto likes to think he’s kind of an expert at this point. As much as anyone is.

“He did not explicitly say that you had a hand in my employment, but I suspected.”

“So he did ask you.”

Kakashi never told Naruto exactly what he was planning. Some of it. Something about the crime rate in Konoha getting high and not having enough ninja at home to deal with it, especially the ninja who were causing it. Naruto remembers tell in him “well if you need someone beat up, just tell me where, but I think Sasuke’s brother’s getting bored. He used to be ANBU right? I’m guessing you need more than someone’s head smacked around.”

“He has asked me to conduct several investigations within the village, yes.” 

“Can I tag along?”

Itachi doesn’t deny him. He looks subtly uncomfortable at the request, but he does not say no. He actually nods his head very slightly, which Naruto takes as positive. 

He does want to tag along for his own reasons. Kakashi didn’t tell him much, but Naruto can put a few things together. He knows enough: there is a criminal element in the village these days that’s becoming a problem and Kakashi wants to deal with it. He wants it dealt with thoroughly, and carefully, which is why he picked Itachi to do it. Naruto wants to see how he goes about it. He wants to learn a little more about not just missions and ninja skills, but how to keep a village happy and safe. 

He has to know that, if he’s going to become Hokage someday. Especially if he’s going to be a good Hokage. How better to learn than to do it himself? 

And hey, if Itachi’s going to let him come along, that’s just about Uchiha-speak for “I would definitely like your help please and thank you.” Naruto doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t bother with the obvious fact that he’s definitely mistranslating for his own benefit. He just takes advantage.  
Besides, he’s rarely gotten to see Itachi work when he’s not being all pretend-evil. Seems like it could be fun. 

\---------

As Naruto follows Itachi around for the first few days of his investigation he notices things. A lot of things actually. Most of the time when he’s hung around Itachi, it’s been in specific locations. There’ve never been a lot of people around who don’t know exactly who he is. 

Naruto realizes quickly that not everyone in the village recognizes him. Some do. Those that do keep a wide berth if they can, and watch him through slanted, wary eyes that Itachi either ignores completely or seems to ignore because he isn’t surprised by it. Most of the ones that do are fellow ninja, or a few people who work closely with them. 

The rest just… don’t.

It calls Naruto’s attention to exactly how long it’s been since there’s been more than one Uchiha living in Konoha. It shows him some of what Obito and Madara were preaching about, about how isolated the Uchiha were before the massacre. 

Itachi never makes an effort to conceal his identity. He never tries to pretend to be someone else. Most of the village just has no idea who he is. The one and only thing he does that could be considered some form of concealment: he never wears the Uchiha crest. So Naruto guesses that if you’re a civilian and that’s the only way you can recognize someone from the clan, then maybe it makes sense that most of the people passing them on the street have no idea who Itachi is. More of them say hi to Naruto than acknowledge Itachi’s presence. 

That realization brings other, darker ones. Naruto is forced to remember exactly how long ago the Uchiha Massacre took place. Worse, now he knows when Itachi’s birthday is. He knows how old his best friend’s brother actually is.

He is forced to realize just how young Itachi was when he was ordered to commit genocide. 

He doesn’t say anything. Part of him wants to, but Itachi has made it clear that he doesn’t appreciate pity. Or sympathy. Or any insinuation that what he did wasn’t of his own choice. Naruto wonders sometimes what it’d be like if he’d died. If there wasn’t this constant reminder that Itachi doesn’t care to be labeled a martyr or a tragic figure. That he still sees himself as a murderer.

Sasuke thinks his brother could own the sun. He’d probably turn Itachi into that if he could.

Uncomfortable realizations aside, following Itachi about is both interesting and boring as all hell. Mostly he’s just talking to people. After some prompting Naruto gets him to explain the case. “A small group of shinobi have been extorting local businesses for protection from looters for grossly excessive amounts of money.” Itachi offers Naruto part of a file that describes the situation in further detail, but keeps his own notes and the identities of the victims to himself. The condescending look Itachi gives Naruto when Naruto offers to help deal with them makes Naruto feel like he’s about eight years old. 

“We need some order of law in the village,” Itachi reminds him. “The Hokage has ordered that no arrests be made without clear evidence of guilt.” Itachi sounds weirdly satisfied when he says that. It seems like it’d be a whole lot easier to just track these shinobi down and beat the hell out of them until they stop doing whatever they’re doing, but it’s not Naruto’s job, right? So he follows along. It’s Itachi’s mission, so why not do it his way.

His slow way.

\----------

Itachi is meticulous. It’s frustrating on a whole new level to watch him work, but Naruto finds it kind of interesting. One wall in the sitting room of Itachi’s small apartment has been dedicated to a pin board on which he posts scripts from interviews and photos of other bits of evidence and other papers Naruto glances over but doesn’t bother reading through. Itachi clearly knows what he’s doing.

It’s pins-and-needles in Naruto’s feet waiting and knowing that Itachi’s trying to help people that Konoha shinobi are hurting. That’s what bothers Naruto the most. If it were up to him these people would already be tied up in Kakashi’s office. 

Every interview Naruto listens to makes him more impatient. Some of them aren’t so bad, just losing some money because the family’s heard what happened a few streets over and they’re worried it might happen to them. Then the frustration of realizing they’ve been tricked.

Others have been worse. There’s a bakery owner over near the outskirts of town where a lot of the damage from Pain’s attack still lingers that refused, because both of her children are ninja and she was confident they could protect her. The bakery got trashed. Three shinobi held her at knife-point while they ransacked her house. Her children were on missions helping rebuilding the rest of the village. They got back too late to help.

“I think we can safely make a connection between the extortionists and these three.” They knew that two days ago, Naruto wants to say. Itachi admonishes him, tells him to be patient, that they need proof. They can’t just assume a connection without evidence.

“You know it’s them. We could be stopping them right now.”

That patient, resigned face. Naruto’s going to punch Itachi in it one of these days. Maybe soon even, if this mess doesn’t get settled out soon.

Itachi seems to realize that Naruto’s frustration is reaching a breaking point though. Maybe he isn’t actually as dense as his brother, even though it seems to run in the family. Itachi nods Naruto over to the desk he’s placed just in front of his investigation wall. He pats the top of it, and Naruto perches, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“You want to go after these men?”

“Duh. They’re hurting people.”

Itachi smiles softly. “Are you completely sure you know who the guilty parties are?”

Naruto hesitates. He senses a trap simply because it’s Itachi and it usually is one. At least Sasuke doesn’t talk him in circles. “You do, don’t you?”

Itachi acknowledges that Naruto has caught him with a nod. “I have enough evidence to determine three likely suspects.” Not a real answer. Naruto scowls. Itachi does him the favor of explaining himself, which is a rare enough gift that Naruto thinks there’s probably some other reason behind it. Whatever’s going on with Itachi’s hesitation, he seems to genuinely want Naruto to understand what he is doing. “Naruto, whose job is it to determine the guilt or innocence of a person?”

Naruto thinks about that for a moment. It’s never been a question for him. It’s always been pretty clear who he needed to go after or defeat; usually they weren’t hiding all the terrible things they were doing. But… “The Kages order missions to deal with missing-nin.”

“And how do they determine who to send their ninja after?”

“I guess the intelligence division does that.” 

“For ninjas outside the village, correct?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“If criminals are committing harm within Konoha, then who deals with them?”

There used to be a police force. Naruto vaguely remembers the Uchihas used to have something to do with that. Now that he thinks about it, who does deal with that now? Is there still a police force? 

Itachi chuckles. “If you do intend to become Hokage someday, you will need to be able to answer that question.”

So that’s why Itachi is taking the time to explain it to him. 

Naruto realizes he doesn’t know the answer, and that Itachi is right. He looks at this man, his friend’s brother, who is and has been a criminal himself. Who has been ordered to deal with criminals on a criminal scale and chose to follow those orders. 

Who determines who is guilty? When he’s Hokage, how is he supposed to tell if someone is innocent or not if he doesn’t know them? He can’t go on every mission. He can’t meet them, he can’t face them on his own terms. He can’t just assume they’re guilty because someone says so. 

What if he ordered a mission against someone who wasn’t?

“You need proof. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Itachi seems satisfied. “Good intentions can cause as much harm as the actions of madmen. Would you rather risk harm to an innocent bystander for the sake of immediate answers, or be completely sure your target is exactly who you think they are?”

“I guess I’d rather know. If it turned out they didn’t do it then—”

Itachi reaches up and pokes Naruto’s forehead. “Are you ready to be patient then?”

Naruto decides he is. Hard as it is to be, Itachi’s right. He can’t just go after whoever he thinks did wrong. Not unless he’s sure. If Itachi’s methods are slower than he’d like, at least his caution isn’t going to lead to mistakes. If it means finding the right people who are doing this then he can wait. 

“Then let’s continue.”

\--------

“I do appreciate your assistance,” Itachi tells Naruto once, when they’ve just come away from a difficult interview. The elderly man they were talking to took one look at Itachi, recognized him, and refused to say anything. He accused Itachi of murder (correct) and railed at him, while Itachi just stood there silently.

Taking it. Accepting it. 

Like he deserves it.

Naruto knows Itachi doesn’t want them defending him, but faced with that kind of anger, he makes a decision. Because he knows Itachi doesn’t want his pity or his protection, he nudges the guy away. He turns him around and starts asking about his grandkids, the little ones he can see in the park across the way, and how they’re doing. He lets Itachi slip into the background as he chatters, and works the man down from his rage until he’s willing to talk.

He lets Itachi signal questions he should ask in hand signs behind the man’s back until they get something useful out of him.

He lets Itachi disappear and walks off knowing the man’s off balance and has no idea what just happened.

“No problem.” Naruto grins. Itachi doesn’t want his protection, so he leaves that guy’s anger alone and doesn’t force Itachi to talk about it. Sasuke’d yell at him if he tried that. He’s pretty sure Itachi won’t yell, but he won’t be happy either. 

“Perhaps you’d be willing to speak to a few other witnesses.” 

Naruto accepts that Itachi letting him help like this is his way of saying thank you, and chooses to keep a closer eye out. Itachi might not want his protection, but Naruto will give it where he can none the less. 

\--------

Naruto’ll give Itachi this. His methods might be slower than he likes, but he still does them faster than anyone else Naruto’s seen. He doesn’t have a huge frame of reference, but he remembers waiting on the teams investigating his Master’s death and Akatsuki, and they took weeks to do what Itachi puts together in several days. Maybe he’s giving Itachi a little too much credit; all of what Itachi needs is actually in the village already and he doesn’t have to deal with international intelligence, but still.

Within two days of Naruto’s impatient outburst, Itachi is formally requesting Naruto assist him in the arrest. He does so bluntly. “Given their actions, I expect resistance. I am not yet capable of subduing them quickly enough to minimize damage.”

It’s a sobering reminder that Itachi’s only been out of the hospital a little more than a year. It’s even more sobering, because if he’s not totally better yet, then that tells Naruto exactly how bad Itachi’s injuries were.

And how bad the illness Sasuke told him about was. He’s standing next to a man who could, at any moment, start coughing up half a lung or have a heart attack if he’s too stressed.

He does kind of wonder why Itachi doesn’t ask Sasuke to help. He figures it’s probably for the best. Sasuke loves his brother, but Naruto remembers sitting through their apartment spats, with Itachi’s silent condescension and sharp words and Sasuke’s shouting. And how neither of them could just agree to disagree and leave it alone.

Naruto lets Itachi take point. He’s here for muscle anyway, and if they’re lucky these guys’ll back down and turn themselves in when they see Itachi. 

“Gentleman, you are under arrest on orders by the Hokage for the crimes of extortion, intimidation and vandalism. Please come quietly or prepare to be subdued.” 

They don’t. Man, they don’t recognize Itachi. Naruto wants to laugh. Pretty much any ninja who is anyone should recognize one of the Uchiha brothers on sight, but these guys must’ve been as far on the back lines as they could get.

Explains why they’re getting off intimidating a bunch of civilians for money. Assholes.

Itachi has one of the three men caught in an illusion before they even have a chance to move. For a moment Naruto almost lets him make the arrest himself, because he’s pretty sure Itachi can snare the other two in a couple seconds.

Then he notices how pale Itachi’s face is. He’s sweating already. One of the other ninja laughs. Says something. “Tell the Hokage to send a real ninja next time.”

Then Naruto steps in and ends it in three shots: one Kage Bunshin, and two Rasengans to the face. Those two aren’t getting up anytime soon.

Itachi’s knees give out. His Sharingan-red eyes narrow in concentration. Naruto knocks his victim out as quick as he can.

“Didn’t tell me you were still….”

Itachi pauses a moment. He pushes himself to his feet, wavering. His eyes aren’t bleeding, which is good. His breathing is regular, but fast, as if he’s nearly out of breath. “Do me the favor of not informing the Hokage.”

“You sure you can handle this job, if you’re—” Naruto waves a hand at him. 

“He knows I still require assistance. I would have been assigned a partner already if you were not helping me.” Naruto wonders who Kakashi would have given him. There aren’t that many ninja who’d be willing to work with Itachi, even for something like this. 

“Thank you Naruto.” Itachi brushes off his coat. 

“You sure you’re all right?”

A nod. “I haven’t had the chance to practice genjutsu on an opponent in some time.” 

“Need a sparring partner?” Itachi looks askance. Naruto grins at him as they tie their victims up and send word to the Hokage’s office. Three criminals to pick up please! Itachi very clearly has no idea how to deal with Naruto’s offer. “Hey, you need someone to practice genjutsu on right? And I’m no good at them, but if I can learn to get out of yours, then I can get out of anyone’s.”

A little, accepting smile quirks Itachi’s lips. He silently acknowledges the compliment. “I would very much appreciate it.”

Naruto isn’t sure whether Sasuke’s going to be jealous or pissed. 

\--------

“So how was he?”

Itachi lays a file on the Hokage’s desk. “Not a hindrance.” Which Itachi actually considers quite a compliment. When Kakashi requested he allow Naruto to accompany him on one of his investigations, he voiced concerns over whether Naruto’s impatience might endanger it. He is pleased to report it did not. 

There are very few ninja in Konoha that Itachi can trust to assist him in his new role, and he is pleased to expand that small number to include his brother’s friend. His incredible power aside, Naruto’s genuine desire to help compels Itachi to want to make this work. 

Oddly it compels him to want Naruto to approve, which is a very strange and very new sentiment he isn’t quite prepared to acknowledge. 

Perhaps it is because he knows Naruto will be Hokage someday.

Perhaps it is because he believes Naruto will be a good Hokage someday, and he has never yet worked for an organization or superior he actually respects. 

Itachi turns to go, knowing that despite his brevity, Kakashi understands his meaning. “If you wish to test his patience again,” Itachi allows. “I could use such assistance in the future.” 

Kakashi smiles beneath his mask.

Itachi clicks the door shut and heads home, satisfied.


	2. Complicated Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura always imagined that if she was going to have any kind of romance in her life, it would be as straightforward as a story book. Given the people she loves, she really should have known better.

When Sakura realizes that Sasuke’s brother is not only likely to survive his miraculous recovery, but also that he is likely to stay, she isn’t entirely sure what to think about it. Uchiha Itachi is a mass murderer. The fact of the matter is, even knowing the circumstances of his crime doesn’t entirely erase the fact of it. As much as Sasuke would like to frame his brother in a martyr’s lily’s and pretend every terrible memory of his is over and done, Sakura cannot.

She watches Itachi in the hospital because only she and Tsunade are capable of fully dealing with Itachi’s condition. His injuries are substantial. Worse, the disease he suffers is, while not unique, very far progressed. They can push it into remission and heal a great deal of the damage it has done to his internal organs. They can even mend some of the nerve damage he has suffered both to his eyes and his limbs. They cannot remove the illness entirely. 

At first Sakura thinks of Sasuke and that Itachi’s survival is something her friend needs to begin what will be a very long and difficult road to recovery. The trauma of his youth, the effects caused by constant damage to his already fragile mental health, cannot be undone easily. Sakura wants to help him. Healing his brother, she supposes, is one way she can. 

Later, after a late Friday night drinking at Naruto’s apartment because she is stressed and doesn’t know who else to talk to about this, she realizes okay, maybe she also wants to see where this will go. 

“We’re both total idiots about him, aren’t we.” Sakura hates that Naruto’s massive chakra keeps him from getting drunk easily. Her vision is blurring already and she is not done. It would be cheating to pulse her own to rid herself of her condition, but it’s tempting. Just so she can get drunk again. 

Naruto laughs and leans a cold beer against her head. Technically they’re both underage, but there isn’t a person in Konoha who actually pays attention to that when it comes to ninja. Sakura’s pretty sure she’d punch the first busy-body who tried. If she can help save the world from a literal god, she can drink herself stupid. 

“Yeah. Yeah we are. Gotta be right? Who else chases after a guy who’s tried to kill you so many times?” Sakura realizes they’re both pretty messed up, but at least they’ve got each other to lean on there. 

“Who else tries to bring a mass murderer back to life just because it might make him less crazy?”  
Naruto goes quiet. “How’s he doing? Itachi, I mean?”

Sakura grimaces. She’s drunk enough that she’s tempted to tell Naruto the truth. Itachi’s been awake since yesterday (hence why she needs the drink), but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone yet. What the hell is she doing, babying him about it? He deserves it, right? Dealing with the mess he caused trying to “help” his little brother get stronger?

She’s sober enough that she keeps her mouth shut about that. “His body’s healing, but….”

“What’cha think we’re gonna do if he doesn’t wake up?”

Sakura reaches for her beer and takes a deep swig. What are they going to do if all of Sasuke’s hopes are for nothing, Naruto means. How are they going to deal with Sasuke’s inevitable… it’s not going to be good. 

Sakura wants to tell Naruto that he doesn’t have to worry about it, because Itachi is awake, just being an asshole. But then she thinks about it. What are they going to do if Itachi doesn’t wake up?

What are they going to do when Sasuke meets his brother awake?

“It’s gonna be rough for him, if he does wake up,” Naruto says. Distracted from her wandering mind, Sakura tilts her head and looks at him. “Well, he’s been a missing-nin for ten years. Assholes made him kill his whole family. I mean, look how Sasuke is because of everything. Can’t really expect his brother to be any healthier, right?”

They can’t expect him to be any less broken, right?

“He’s still a murderer.”

“Yeah.” Sakura’s glad Naruto doesn’t hesitate to say it. Sasuke does. Sasuke will. Naruto doesn’t sugar coat the truth.

But damn him, he has a point.

So when Sakura goes in to check up on Itachi, she starts paying attention. She starts looking for the signs: his clear depression, his silence, his noticeable hints of paranoia hidden behind a face she’s pretty sure he assumes is neutral. 

She’s been around Sasuke long enough to have a pretty good read on Uchiha “neutral.” Was the rest of the family as bad as these two brothers when they were alive? 

Once Itachi leaves the hospital, it’s harder to keep track of him. In the hospital she got to know him a little. She could catch his subtle requests for information, learn a little about him in which of the books she dropped off he read, and which ones he didn’t. 

She could catch glimpses of a depth of emotion behind those dark eyes that she thinks would drive her mad to feel. The ferocity of his love for his brother is too intense to miss. Sasuke’s visits are noticeably cathartic and terrible in equal measure. The time Itachi’s former Akatsuki partner shows up….

It’s like a darkness lifts from him. Suddenly he smiles when she visits, and thanks her openly. Suddenly subtle bits of sarcasm work their way into his speech with her. Suddenly he is willing to be patient with his care. 

It’s as if he suddenly has decided to start living for the future instead of lost in the past he should have died in.

Outside the hospital, Sakura only really meets him when she visits Sasuke’s apartment. There was some talk at the end of the war about rebuilding a few of the houses in the old Uchiha compound, but Sasuke refused. Frankly Sakura’s pretty glad he did, because she can’t believe living surrounded by the ghosts of the dead would be good for him. His apartment, instead, is in the center of Konoha, along a reasonably quiet side-street, but close enough to anything he might need to get to and a short walk from Sakura’s parent’s house. Naruto’s old flat is farther out, so they end up meeting at Sasuke’s more often.

Much to Sasuke’s (pretend) annoyance.

At first Sakura thinks Itachi likes the intrusions even less. Eventually she realizes he’s just naturally quiet. He participates in their game nights without saying much, but he lingers nearby and is personable when he does speak. She never gets the impression that he would rather see them leave. 

Sakura spends more of her time dealing with her idiot boys and their inability to just fucking TALK to each other. 

Sasuke, it turns out, gets jealous when Naruto talks to her for too long. Or, maybe, when she talks to Naruto for too long. Turns out he’s finally noticed that, chances are if you decide to be GONE for several years, some other people might decide to wind up closer to each other than you remember. Sakura has a moment of weakness wherein she feels bad for it when he finally snaps at her.

Then she punches him through a wall and tells him, “If you wanted to be better friends you should have fucking stuck around!”

Itachi sees the incident. He freezes, wide-eyed, his still-weak Sharingan spinning slowly and his hands paused mid-seal. Then he shakes his head, his eyes fade to black, and he folds his hands into a silently, slow clap and presses his lips together to keep from laughing.

That is the point when Sakura decides she’d like to actually get to know him better. That’s the point where she realizes that, though he loves his brother to an alarming degree, Itachi is as unwilling to allow Sasuke to diminish his faults and failures as he is to hide his own.

Sasuke wipes the blood off his lip and stares at her. He seems at a loss; she’s never reacted to him like that, and once again, Sakura has the briefest moment of weakness. She almost apologizes to him. Then she straightens herself and tells him. “I care about Naruto,” she announces. “I love him as much as I love you, and it’s not your damned business who I like and who I don’t. Get over it.”

However Sasuke deals with it after she marches out of his apartment, she doesn’t see him for two days. Then he shows up at her work on the third and he apologizes to her. Sakura’s first thought is that he’s a replacement. She actually scans his chakra just to make sure and she’s tempted to punch him through another wall even when she confirms it’s him. She cares for him, but he has a history of dishonesty with her, with Naruto, with all of them, that makes it impossible for her to trust him on instinct. 

Maybe someday that will change, but it will take time. For now though, his apology is enough to start with.

“Did he speak to you?” Itachi asks her quietly the next time she visits their apartment. Surprised, Sakura realizes that Itachi must have spoken to his brother. What could he possibly have said, she wonders, to get Sasuke, of all people, to apologize so readily? When she doesn’t answer, Itachi turns his head, disappointment flickering in his eyes. “It isn’t my business to interfere, but it is, equally, my fault that Sasuke left you. The bonds he severed in order to defeat me… that was never supposed to happen. I cannot make him realize that our bonds are what allow us to survive, that they are our strength in this world, but….”

“He talked to me,” Sakura tells him. 

Itachi looks relieved. “Thank you,” he tells her. Sakura asks him why. “For being there for him. He has done terrible things to you, some of which are of my failure and some of which are his own. I would never ask you to forgive him but… thank you. For giving him something to build a home upon.” 

Four days later she walks in on an argument between Naruto and Sasuke that Itachi is not present for. She hears Naruto say her own name and then sees Sasuke shove Naruto against a wall and kiss him so hard their teeth click. 

She sees Naruto fist a hand in Sasuke’s hair and she takes a step back, face flushed, heart twisting, happy, terrified, hurt all at once. 

She’s always known how much they love each other. Even the most foolish of fools could see it. Why else would Naruto help her drink herself stupid while they complain about Sasuke like he’s both of their exes? Why else would Naruto go to the literal ends of the earth to try and drag Sasuke back from the darkest depths of his soul? Why else would Sasuke turn away from his hatred for the sole sake of helping Naruto defeat the greatest evil of their time?

Why else, in the end, could neither of them kill what they believed was the greatest threat to the shinobi world, simply because that threat was them? 

They’ve given each other their greatest ambitions, boiled each other in their most potent rages, hurt each other, supported each other, taken knives for each other, lost limbs for each other. 

Of course they love each other. 

Sakura turns to flee.

And finds two flesh-and-blood hands holding her wrists. Holding her back.

Suddenly they’re surrounding her, suffocating her, wrapping her between them. Sasuke looks terrified. “Don’t leave.” He demands it like he fears he’ll never see her again if she does. 

Naruto looks sad. “Sakura, do you really think we don’t love you too?”

Not like that, Sakura wants to whisper. Desperately believes.

She loves both of them, she realizes. She’s always known that. How many times has she beat herself up knowing she still loves Sasuke even despite everything he’s done? How many times has she hated herself for that?

How many times has she looked at Naruto and realized just how much he’s grown, and felt herself grow warm in his presence. How many times has she just wanted to hold him in his weakest moments and feared what would happen if he knew?

They’ve never spoken of this. Her boys are idiots, why couldn’t they just tell her?

Why couldn’t they just…

Sakura hates being weak. Worse, she hates being weak in front of them, because she’s spent so long trying to measure up, trying to keep up with them. 

But she can’t keep it together when Naruto is pulling her against him and leaning his head against hers. She can’t handle Sasuke’s hesitant touch against her hair, or the devastated look in his eyes when they meet hers. 

So they… they try to work it out. (She cries and punches both of them and yells at both of them for not saying anything.)

Somehow, it does work out. Their strange, fucked up little love-triangle that’s less comedy soap opera and more real than any kind of relationship Sakura’s ever had. It’s just… It’s hard to think about a relationship with anyone who hasn’t been through what they’ve been through together. Maybe the three of them aren’t the healthiest kind of three-way, but they’re also very different people than they were when they first became a team.

The past, the harm they’ve caused each other, the support they’ve given each other, it binds them together. There isn’t anyone Sakura would rather be with.

Except….

That’s another story. And she supposes that too comes back to Itachi. 

She doesn’t get at all how he can always seem to be there but not there. Somehow even though he doesn’t try to be, he’s always peripherally involved in the mess that is Sakura and her relationships. She’d accuse him of being a nosey asshole, but it’s actually kind of her fault he was around for this one. 

It starts with two things: Itachi moves out of Sasuke’s apartment and gets a job working as the Hokage’s personal domestic investigator. He’s not entirely back to his full strength yet, so Kakashi sometimes assigns him help when he needs to make a difficult arrest. Naruto likes to be that help, more often than not. He claims he’s learning how to be a better Hokage, so he’ll know what’s going on when he takes over for Kakashi, but Sakura thinks he’s become genuinely fond of Sasuke’s brother. 

(She has a little too, maybe, even though she didn’t mean for that to happen. You never really expect to like your boyfriend’s mass murdering older brother on purpose.)

Sakura’s even helped Itachi herself once or twice, because there were medical issues involved.

The second thing is that Naruto awkwardly admits to her that he might have a crush on someone else. 

At first Sakura worries. She feels the reasonable fear that Naruto is trying to break up with her. With them. He can’t leave her without leaving Sasuke too, and she knows why Naruto would talk to her first. Sasuke… she isn’t sure how he will handle this. 

Then she looks at Naruto. She realizes he’s just as scared as she is. She hasn’t seen him this terrified since he was staring down Madara on a blackened field strewn with the bodies of dead shinobi he promised to protect and failed. He fears failing her.

He fears losing her.

Sakura sits him down and asks him, “talk to me.”

“I know it’s weird, right. I mean, how can you like more than one person the same? I guess with you and Sasuke it just always made sense. Of course I love you both,” he says in the present tense. Loves them. Sakura swallows her sigh of relief, for she knows Naruto won’t ever lie to her. “There’s someone else I like too though. I think I might like them as much as I like the two of you, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can I ask who it is?”

Naruto blushes. Then he smiles, quietly. “She’s probably never going to feel the same. But I can’t lie to you, Sakura. I really do like her. If I just kept it bottled up then…”

He fears he would hurt them worse. Sakura marvels at her lovely idiot and hugs him, because he might think he’s strange. He might think what he feels is wrong, but she knows him. Naruto has such a huge heart. Of course he could love more than one person. Of course that doesn’t mean he loves her and Sasuke any less or any differently than he already does. 

“Do you want me to help with Sasuke?”

Naruto stares at her. “Really?”

Sakura smiles and cracks her knuckles. Besides, she’s pretty sure she already knows who else Naruto’s set his heart on. 

Which is how it starts. Sakura has been friends with Hyuuga Hinata for years. They’ve grown closer since the war, more than Sakura ever expected. She doesn’t provoke the same volatile rivalry Ino does. Sakura appreciates the lack of competition. Yes she’s still friends with Ino. Good friends, even, and their rivalry has toned down somewhat, but they still butt heads. Too similar, Sakura thinks. They’re both stubborn and very good at what they do. 

Sakura and Hinata are worlds apart in just about every way. Knowing what she knows now about Naruto’s feelings, she could feel jealous.

But Hinata was her friend before she was someone Naruto fell in love with, and nothing, not even her idiot boyfriend, is going to change that. 

Hinata and Sakura meet once a week for lunch. Every week. No matter how busy they are. They plan the place in advance: a café somewhere in Konoha, and preferably one they haven’t tried yet. They’ve tried everything: traditional, modern, that weird one downtown that’s trying to sell whatever Kumogakure thinks is a sweet. They talk about everything: work, hobbies, movies they’ve seen, books they’ve read, idiots they’ve dealt with. Sometimes boy trouble comes up. Sakura always feels a little bad when it does. She knows how Hinata feels about Naruto, and she hates the idea that she’s rubbing her relationship with him in. 

At the same time, it wouldn’t be fair to lie to Hinata about it. She respects her friend too much.  
After Hinata is assigned to work with Itachi on one of his investigations, not long after he moves into his own apartment, their arrangement changes slightly. 

“Did you know Mr. Uchiha likes sweets?” Hinata asks her during one of their lunches. 

“Mr—you mean Itachi? Really?” Sakura ponders that around a mouthful of ice cream. “Huh. Sasuke hates them.” 

Hinata laughs. “He took me to a café near the edge of the city after we were finished as a thank you.” She seems a little embarrassed. “It’s traditional. Their dango is very good.” 

This wouldn’t happen to be the infamous dango shop Kakashi nearly died outside of a few years back, just before Sasuke pulled his stupid disappearing act, would it? Suddenly Sakura is intrigued. She’s heard about the place, but never as more than a passing mention to give those listening to Guy’s story of his dynamic rescue of Kakashi a frame of reference. 

Sakura hums. “Think he’d be willing to go back?” Now that she considers it, she hasn’t seen Itachi in a while. Not since he moved into his own place. Does he get out? He can’t have many (read: probably any) friends in town. He’s not very sociable, but if he doesn’t do anything except work and go home….

Hinata catches on to her thoughts. “I think he might accept our invitation. He does seem a little lonely.”

That is how Sakura’s lunches with Hinata become lunch for three. 

Not all the time. Sometimes she needs girl time, and so does Hinata, and she doesn’t need her two idiots, or any interfering siblings in the way. 

Itachi, after some reluctant silence, accepts their offer. It turns out he’s been to several sweet shops around town. He even keeps notes about them in a little book he carries around. At one point he even admits he used to have an excellent list of foreign sweet shops, but it, along with most of his worldly possessions, did not survive his battle with his brother.

Sakura thinks his hobby is hilarious. “You should totally write reviews for the paper. I bet they’d be better than that pretentious dick writing them now.” She never looks at restaurant reviews. The columnist hates anything that’s not ridiculously expensive traditional Fire Country fare. 

Hinata is nervous around Itachi at first. Less so than she might have been; she did partner with him on an investigation. She says little while they eat and fidgets. 

Itachi doesn’t fidget, but he says less. 

Sakura props her cheek in one hand and wonders whether this was a mistake as she stirs her drink with its straw. These lunches were supposed to be fun. 

Her persistence begins to pay off. 

“Ugh, they’re driving me insane,” Sakura exclaims. “Would it kill Sasuke to admit he doesn’t actually like living on his own? We could have moved in together three months ago.” Sakura doesn’t add that she’s getting to the point in her own home where she just needs her space. She loves her parents, she does, but she’s as much an adult as any jounin and she really needs to not be living in their house anymore. 

Itachi, who has opened slowly to conversing with them, admits, “His apartment was considerably less tidy when I saw it last.”

“I’m not sure which one’s worse right now. I hate it when Naruto’s upset. He’s impossible to say no to and he has no idea he’s doing it. Asshole. He’s got someone he likes and he’s too much of an idiot to just say something. He doesn’t think they like him back.” The thing is, that person does. She’s sitting right across from Sakura now and Sakura can’t fucking tell her because it’s not fair if she does. “I want to hit him with a brick. He’s so clueless.” 

“Naruto does have a remarkable ability to draw people in without realizing what he’s done. I cannot say I know him as well as either of you do, but I have seen his genuine surprise at another’s affection. It seems that little truly reaches him with any true certainty unless it is laid out in explicit detail before him.”

Sakura laughs, because Itachi’s assessment of Naruto is extremely astute. It’s good to know Sasuke’s brother actually pays attention to the people around him more than Sasuke does. “Sasuke’s just as bad.”

Itachi doesn’t take offense at the jab against his brother. He sips his tea and agrees. “It can be both a useful and his most frustrating habit.”

Uncomfortably, Sakura realizes and abruptly understands just how much Itachi relied on his own brother’s ignorance in the past. And equally how it backfired on him. Hinata smiles into her tea. “Sakura, they both care for us. Isn’t that enough?”

“Enough? Hinata, do you really not care if Naruto ever realizes you like him like that?”

Sakura bites her lip, because that was getting a little too close to spoiling the whole thing just now.  
Hinata fidgets. Sakura understands her discomfort and her fears. She knows that Hinata would suffer any and all of Naruto’s obliviousness if it meant keeping him in even a small way, even if only as a friend. No matter what it might do to her, as long as Naruto is happy….

As long as Naruto is happy. What about Hinata’s happiness? What about her friend who is sitting across from her, torn between her affection and her fear. What about this beautiful, wonderful, powerful young woman who cares so much she would walk away if it meant her loved ones would be safe and happy forever?

Sakura slams her hands on the table and loudly declares, “Well if he doesn’t get himself together than I might just sweep you off your feet before he does!”

Then she hears herself and immediately flushes, realizing that half the café is staring at them. Worse, she realizes that Hinata is staring at her, ducking her head with a mortified flush across her cheeks, and Sakura’s heart twists fearing how she must have taken that. 

She’s not making fun of her. No, the worst part is that though Sakura just meant to make Hinata feel better, she actually means it. This kind, sweet girl who has become such a dear friend to her. She realizes in that moment that she means what she said. And her blush turns from one of fear to warmth. 

Itachi rises from his seat and nods to Sakura as she flops back into hers. Something oddly kind flickers in his dark eyes as he gathers his things and leaves some money on the table. It’s enough to pay for all of them. He doesn’t have to, but, “I believe you two have something you need to talk about,” he says. “I’ll meet you next week.”

Thankfully he isn’t offended. 

Thankfully he isn’t the oblivious moron his brother is.

Thankfully he is kind enough to recognize this situation is beyond him. He leaves, leaving Sakura to deal with the aftermath of her outburst, and Sakura’s throat tightens at the sight of Hinata folding into herself. 

She reaches her hands out to her friend. Before she can hide away. Before she can misinterpret. “I mean it,” Sakura says to her, unfolding Hinata’s fists and wrapping them in her own. “Naruto’s an idiot, and I know you love him. I know you love him as much as I love him, and as much as we both love Sasuke, even though he’s the king of idiots. But you know,” the color of Sakura’s cheeks deepen to rose, “I love you too.”

Hinata doesn’t answer, not then. But she tightens her grip in Sakura’s hands, and she smiles.  
Sakura thinks, because she knows her friend, that she accepts.

Sakura decides she is going to repay Itachi big time. If it wasn’t for him, she might never have noticed this. 

She’s going to have to double her nudging at Naruto. She’s completely serious. If he doesn’t bring Hinata into their odd little family of misfits, then Sakura’s going to do it for him. She loves him enough to give him the chance, but she loves Hinata enough to protect her from him missing it. 

It takes another year and a half, and the threat of an arranged marriage for Hinata, for Naruto to get with the program. Meanwhile Hinata and Sakura continue visiting cafes. They continue inviting Itachi now and then to join them. They continue caring for each other and Sakura deals with paving the road for what is to come: for the hilarious idiocy Sasuke is inevitably going to throw at them. For Naruto’s inevitable lightning-fast realization that no one could possibly predict. For Hinata, who has some idea of what she is getting into, but may need some help. 

It begins with saving a life that should have been lost. With learning to deal with the presence of a man whose entire life is the root of her lovers’ suffering. It ends with building a place for a new life surrounded by more love than Sakura could have imagined ever having. 

Sakura wonders in the night, tucked safe between three warm bodies, what it might have been like if Itachi hadn’t been recovered. She is glad she doesn’t have to contemplate the consequences. The consequences of his survival are ones she can live with.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata never expected to have a choice in love. The circumstances that change her expectations are no less unexpected.

Amongst ninja, there is no such thing as “easy love.”

Beyond the typical complications of emotion and heartache, suffering and ecstasy, there is their duty. There is expectation. There is the interference of the village’s needs.

Since the first moment Hinata picked up a kunai, she has known she is expected to fulfil these. She has known equally that she is inadequate to fulfil these. 

Hinata has always know she will be expected to put aside her heart for the sake of her family. For the sake of protecting their legacy and power. She knows that her father, ultimately, will be the one to decide her husband. She knows equally that she has no choice but to have one. She is the eldest child of the eldest child of the Hyuuga clan. She must produce an heir or subject her family to an unacceptable succession crisis. 

She never expects the opportunity to choose her husband. 

Oh she fantasizes. She dreams. She hopes. She watches a bright and tarnished star amongst the brilliance of her peers and soaks in the warmth of his smile. She is overwhelmed by the barest hint of his attention.

She allows herself the illusion of a dream she never dares have. 

She knows that star will rise. She never expects he will drag her up with him. 

He hears her desperate resistance when her cousin tries to remind her of her place.

He reaches her cousin’s broken heart and frees it from its darkness.

He unlocks the secret pain her father suffers and she sees and believes at last that her family might someday change.

She takes that hope into herself and lets it burn. A steady but careful flame she tends with every happenstance glance, every victory, and every word they speak to each other. Her cousin sees a key to the bars of his cage and chooses to fight for it. Hinata chooses to fight for it too.

The keys to her own cage, not written on her forehead and bound to her soul, but unspoken in duty and history and her position.

After the war things begin to change, and they do not. At first Hinata thinks she will continue loving Naruto from afar, but he suddenly sees her. He doesn’t love her, not the way she loves him, but he sees her.

At first Hinata thinks it some form of guilt. Neji is in the hospital and she visits him daily, so of course she sees Naruto there as well. At first he’s in bad shape. At first, when he’s wandering the halls, she sees him mostly going into Sasuke’s room and when he goes in there one of two things happens: she hears voices that escalate to yelling until he leaves again and slams the door, or he’s there for hours. 

Every time he leaves he has this little smile on his face like he’s won. Hinata is glad for him.

She’s never known love the way Naruto loves Sasuke, but she recognizes it. A part of her wishes she could have it.

A part of her is glad she doesn’t. The world is changing, but her duties remain. Her half-written future remains.

Hinata continues to work with Team 8. Despite her father’s occasional subtle protests, his reminders that she is heir to the Hyuuga clan.

Hanabi can have her position. Hinata doesn’t want it. Her father has always favored her sister anyway. Hinata would rather run with Kiba and Shino, rebuilding and remaking their shinobi world with her own two hands and her teammates’ support forever. 

In her stalling, in running from the duty that hovers over her head, she takes a chance.  
She is gifted an opportunity. 

Naruto accepts her offer of dinner, not as the potential date she feared he might mistake it for, but as a friend. They have the chance to become friends.

But the weight of her duty remains.

“Hey Hinata, you wanted to talk to me?”

Summer-blue eyes, sunlight hair, a smile that could melt ice. Hinata still loves him. So deeply she realizes he can never know. He doesn’t love her the same way he loves his team. She sees how he loves in every argument with Sakura, in every silent pass of communication with Sasuke. In his absolute dedication to their happiness. Hinata would selfishly desire that love for herself, but she cannot.

She cannot bear to, knowing it must inevitably end. 

“I need your help,” she tells him quietly. Her father has proposed an untenable solution to her duty. She understands why, but what he wants cannot happen, and she needs a way out. Naruto has shown her the way out before. 

She explains the situation quickly. “Father still wants to make amends to Neji for what happened to his father. It isn’t possible to release his seal, but he thinks he has a way to make amends anyway.” Through her. Once again Hinata finds herself sacrificed to the good of her clan. Hanabi will be heir, but Hinata is of the head house. Traditionally Hinata would be branded with the seal herself the moment her sister is officially chosen, but her father aims to change that. Where better to start than with his own daughter. Her marriage to Neji will ensure that his children will similarly be spared his father’s fate. 

Neji is as much a brother as she has ever had. And she is as much as sister to him. Her father is too stubborn to hear their protests. This change he wishes for is what the clan desperately needs, but Hinata can see no road but misery in his choice of methods. 

“You want me to talk to him?” Naruto has calmed considerably since the war. Facing her now, with earnest will in his eyes, is not the energetic boy she fell in love with. This is the young candidate for Hokage she has befriended.   
Talking won’t fix her problem. 

“The clan needs me to marry,” Hinata tells him reluctantly. It isn’t entirely okay for her to be telling him her clan’s secrets, but if he were even a hint more observant he’d already know. She wants him to know.

“Have you told him no?”

“Naruto.” She gives him a Look. 

“Well…” Awkwardly, Naruto pauses. And blushes. Hinata is at a loss in his presence. “What about me?”

Suddenly she feels twelve years old, as if her heart is being ripped from her, and every bit of anxiety she has overcome in Naruto’s presence strangles her.

Naruto rubs his nose and looks away. Down. She’s never seen him like this, so genuinely embarrassed. “I mean, I’m the next candidate for Hokage right? And I guess technically I’m the only Uzumaki left in Konoha. I’m not a Hyuuga, but the family needs to get something out of it right?”

“But you don’t love me.” Hinata’s hands fly to her mouth. She desperately, desperately wishes she could take back her reckless words. 

Naruto smiles at her. He leans forward. Cups her cheek and presses his forehead to hers. “You’ve always known me better than anyone. Do you think I’d ask if I didn’t love you too?”

“But Sasuke, and Sakura….”

“Aren’t you the only one who understands what we meant to each other?”

Hinata thinks about it. She thinks about her team and their bond. She loves Shino and Kiba like brothers. She loves them because they know her better than her own family does. She knows Naruto loves his team like that, but perhaps a little differently too. 

There’s an attraction between all three of them that Hinata doesn’t share with her own team. It’s an attraction Hinata knows well, because she’s felt it for Naruto for as long as she’s known him. She’s felt it pull her to protect him, to die for him, to care for him. 

“You know there’s only one person other than them I’d ever lose myself over right?”

She’s watched him for so long. Seen everything he is for so long. Has she really been this blind?  
She insists, “It isn’t the same.”

“No,” Naruto agrees. “Me and Sasuke… we’re exactly right and wrong for each other. Always have been. We bring out our best and our worst. He’s someone I never want to live without, and now he’s someone I know will always have my back. Sakura’s home. She’s been there between us, seen the worst of us, believes in us and knows when to try and stop us. And when not to. But…” Hinata fears what he is going to say of her. It lingers in the moment between them. “You’re always….”

“I’m not part of your history.”

“And I think I love you because of that.”

Hinata hesitates. Her fears overtake her. For all Naruto is offering her everything she ever wanted, she fears his too-big heart. She fears this will end and she will be left without him, with memories of something she desperately wants and shouldn’t have. She can never take him away from his team. He will never lie to her, never pretend they mean less to him than they do.

She will never be his one and only.

She realizes that Naruto has never had a one and only. If she agrees to this, that means accepting that. She should take her time. Think about this. Consider the consequences. This is so much more than she considered when she decided to ask Naruto for his help. 

She should be cautious. She shouldn’t answer yet. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Hope blossoms in his too-blue eyes. Hope and a warmth that Hinata has never recognized, a warmth that, now that she sees it, she realizes has been in his smiles for years. Not at first, not just after the war, but growing steadily between them. It makes her want to hope, to believe, that this is real. 

She smiles back as he asks her a nervous question. She nods her head.

He kisses her, and it is everything she never thought she could want. 

“Just gonna warn you, Sasuke’s gonna be really, really jealous.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah. He knows. Sakura’s been hitting sense into him for almost two years.” He already knows? Hinata’s flush returns in full force. Knows, meaning Naruto has spoken to them about her? They know he likes her?

Hinata squeaks. Naruto kisses her forehead. “Wanted to do that for years,” he tells her. He ruffles fingers through her hair. She’s never known him to be this touchy, but she relishes it. She realizes that he is this touchy, but only with certain people. She remembers hesitations now, over the past few years. Moments where he reaches like he wants to tug her hair and refrains, or leans in and then backs away, or that time he fell asleep on her, drunk, and snuggled his head just beneath her chin. Her yes is like a switch, permission for him to act on the affection he feels for her.

It occurs to her that he was as certain this could never be as she was. 

“Are we going to be okay?” Hinata asks him seriously, when her elation calms. 

Naruto doesn’t pull away from her. He rests his chin on her head. “Well, I never thought I’d actually get married. They won’t let me marry Sasuke, and Sakura’s already married him ‘cause he’s an idiot and that’s what it takes for him to catch on, so I can’t marry her either. I should do something about that when I’m Hokage.”

“I mean are they going to be okay with me?”

Naruto hums. “Sasuke isn’t. He’s kinda possessive you know.” Hinata does. She isn’t blind. “But he knows. I didn’t plan on today, but we all talked you know. They know I like you, and he’s had two whole years to deal. I didn’t just offer without telling them, you know.”

Well, not entirely. As he said, Hinata thinks, Naruto likely still has to explain his proposal to them. It does make her more comfortable knowing that Naruto’s team is aware of the situation. And a little irritated that she didn’t know. 

Sakura will be okay, Hinata realizes. Sakura loves her. Sakura meant what she said two years ago in that café. Hinata has few people she truly considers friends, and perhaps, with this bond now between them, both caring for this reckless idiot, they can become something closer. 

Hinata flushes, and finds herself relishing the opportunity.

She chooses not to worry, yet, over Sasuke. She knows perhaps more than Naruto realizes how he is likely to react, and she knows he will be uncomfortable. That he will worry what it means that Naruto has made her his wife, that he is no longer the center of Naruto’s world.

She needs to speak to him. Soon. Privately. Before he makes assumptions he shouldn’t. He is still the dearest person in Naruto’s heart. 

“Hey, if we’re gonna be engaged, can I take you out?” Naruto asks her. Hinata tilts her head, uncomprehending. “On a date. Somewhere nice. I was gonna ask anyway, but just ‘cause we’re getting married doesn’t mean I can’t still do that right? Promise it won’t be ramen.”

Hinata laughs. “We can have ramen if you want.”

“Yeah, but Neji’s gonna kill me if I take you out to ramen for our first date.”

“Naruto.” Hinata tugs on Naruto’s collar. She looks him in the eyes and smiles. The sheepish grin on his face, the open warmth in his eyes. This is real. This is happening. She sees the bars of her cage falling away in him, and she sees hints of a life she has dreamed of, and never could have. 

She sees a future unwritten by her duties to the clan. A future where her children are not just free by her father’s whim, but free because Naruto will never allow them to be marked as her cousin is. With him by her side, she can protect them from that sacrificial tradition.

Her people, she, can finally be free. 

“Naruto, ramen will be fine.”


	4. To an Open, Honest Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Itachi's new mission: head of a public and internationally sanctioned group of investigative ninja, there is only one real choice for a partner. 
> 
> Some things are as if they have never changed.

There is something comfortingly familiar about this: walking a forested road by Itachi’s side with a long-sword at his back, a cloak hiding his face, and a mission to complete. Kisame would say he has missed such excursions for they are among the few good memories he has of assignments. He does say the first part, though not the second, knowing that his partner will understand the layers of meaning beneath. 

From the time he could best every one of his peers to his admittance into Akatsuki, every mission he was ever given was a weight on his conscience. In Akatsuki’s arms he sought the chance to rise from the hidden world that forced his hand against comrade after comrade, against the secrets that ruled his life. In Akatsuki’s arms he found some sense of peace, working towards the truth.

Working towards a lie. He is a man who finds pride in fulfilling his obligations, and so when given the chance he completed his last mission for Akatsuki.

He still finds some shame in running away in the end, for the sake of preserving his own life and at the expense of leaving the world to Madara’s fate. 

A fate it was rescued from. 

Under the illusion of his mission for truth, Kisame did find one honest comfort. A comfort that walks by his side now with familiar grace and silence. Itachi rarely responds to his occasional commentary with more than a tilt of his head or a flicker of a glance, but they have run together so long now that even those small actions speak volumes in communication between them. 

He buried this man once, convinced he had lost his only remaining truth: that Itachi did hide some affection for him and that Kisame’s actions allowed him to complete his last and most desperate mission. He never expected to find Itachi alive.

He has never been as grateful as he was the day Naruto showed up at his door to tell him that Itachi was alive.

Traveling with Itachi is easy. It’s familiar. It’s their life for ten years revisited, and they are so used to the other’s habits and preferences that despite several years apart they fall back into routine easily. 

Equally easy is this: 

They meet their target, a small group of former Sand shinobi who defected during the War and who have been the cause of several major robberies in southern Waterfall country as well as attacks on local villages. From Itachi’s intel they seem to want to carve themselves their own private kingdom. They have not gone unnoticed.

Initial contact is entertaining. Walking into their village, they are stopped and warned of trouble to come. When they fail to heed such foolish warnings, they are greeted by a gaggle of their target’s minions. When those minions are quickly dealt with, the rogue shinobi leader and his companions show up themselves to count the cost. 

Of course they do; men with enough ego to try and build themselves a country aren’t going to stand at the back of the line for long. 

“For crimes against Waterfall country and the Alliance of the Five Villages, you and your comrades are under arrest.”

“Who’s gonna arrest us shorty? You and what army?”

Kisame laughs. “I don’t think they recognize us Itachi.”

A shrug. An amused one, Kisame reads. “It is fair to assume most will not.”

It’s unfortunate for these brigands they do not. Itachi was chosen for this position, leading their barely existent team of international investigators, because he is naturally prone to avoiding unnecessary deaths. He is not, however, a man to be underestimated.

Kisame would like to think that latter part is true of him as well.

Itachi is not prone to posturing. Nor is he prone to boasting. He says nothing more, but launches himself at the rogue leader with the efficient speed of an arrow. The lightest brush of his hand leaves only a bare imprint from where he uses Kisame’s shoulder as a launch pad. Kisame barely feels him. Itachi is not unnaturally light for someone of his stature (small compared to Kisame, but only just below average for a shinobi), but the grace with which he moves minimizes his weight until it is more a courtesy tap than any actual burden.

The enemy shinobi’s leader is not ready for Itachi’s speed or the unnerving silence with which he moves. Neither are his comrades, which allows Kisame to place himself between them and Itachi. Let Itachi deal with the leader. The man won’t last long anyway. These fools will offer a momentary distraction in the meantime.

Only a momentary one. Kisame doesn’t bother with ninjutsu; his own speed, notably unusual for a man his size, catches them off guard. The strength of his blows leave them senseless.

(Alive, because Itachi’s current credo is that suspects are to be captured alive unless they pose significant immediate danger to either of them and Kisame respects Itachi enough to follow it.)

Itachi fights with the measured skill of a dancer. Every movement is precise, every action calculated to the greatest effect. The rogue Itachi is up against manages to evade Itachi’s first few shuriken, but each was thrown with careful direction, each planned to guide Itachi’s opponent into exactly the right position.

Itachi’s form blurs. In an instant he is so close to his opponent they might collide. Their eyes meet, and Kisame sucks in a startled, unsteady breath.

He has seen Itachi several times since that first meeting in the hospital, not a few months after Itachi’s unexpected revival. He is intimately aware of his partner’s condition; more so than most, because he personally witnessed every stage of Itachi’s initial decline. He has seen Itachi in every state of health, from entirely fit to dead, and he would rather not witness an encore of the latter.

He has not seen Itachi use his tsukiyomi since well before Itachi’s “death.” Thus, to see signs of Itachi using it now takes him off guard.

Were he not a careful man prone to paying attention to his surroundings, that momentary lapse in attention would have ended him on the blade of one of his own opponents. He backhands the opportunistic ninja in the skull, dropping him to the ground instead.

Itachi’s opponent drops to the ground half a beat later. Kisame half expects Itachi to drop with him.

When he doesn’t, Kisame sheaths his sword and begins the tedious task of tying their captives up. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t experiment with your dojutsu while we’re on a mission,” he comments blandly. 

Itachi rubs at his eyes, a clear sign that he is, in fact, affected by using them. “Forgive me Kisame. There aren’t any friends I would feel comfortable practicing its use on.”

Kisame laughs, shakes his head, and accepts. There isn’t any use in arguing with Itachi about it. He’s a stubborn bastard. What Kisame appreciates is the apology.

Before, he would never have heard such a thing. Itachi is not an open person by nature, but it is in his apologies, in his trusting movements, in his decision to request Kisame as a partner first and before anyone else, that Kisame reads the truth of his honest affection.

Before, they never had the opportunity to express their affection towards each other. Itachi is not an openly affectionate person by nature, but neither is he now holding his affection back. 

Kisame summons a small landshark and sends it off with a message. “Come then Itachi, we have some time to wait until our friends arrive to collect them. I think I saw a tea shop near the edge of town when we entered. Would you care to see if they’re willing to serve us?”

Itachi smiles softly. “Of course.” 

Kisame takes the warmth of his quiet smile as the greatest prize of all.


	5. At a Grave Unvisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi has never been sure how to feel about his former comrade. Itachi has never allowed himself to mourn the losses his actions have caused. Kisame has never contemplated the potential of a relationship without secrets.

Despite the dubious terms he has been forced to come to over his own guilt and the deaths of his childhood companions, Kakashi still visits Rin’s grave every day. It’s become tradition, a morning routine that is far more routine than is actually safe for a Kage with enemies to engage in, but cathartic for its familiarity.

Speaking to his departed friends is cathartic for his sanity. That he knows Obito and Rin are at peace does not end the comfort he feels speaking to their graves.

Before it was out of guilt that he visited, now it is out of peaceful remembrance.

But today there is an unusual disturbance in his comfortable routine.

Several graves line the cemetery where Rin’s plot is. Many of them are old. More of them are new. Some are too fresh to comfortably think about. It is at the edge of a plot placed a little more than a decade ago that Kakashi finds the unsettling interruption. 

Dark hair bound in a loose ponytail. Fair skin tinted with a sickly pallor. A pale cotton yukata that looks like it probably came out of the hospital. 

Kakashi does not recognize the man at first. When he does, he feels himself the disruption to the morning’s peace.

Kakashi has not seen Uchiha Itachi since his near lifeless body was recovered and secluded in the Konoha hospital. He has received regular reports from Sakura on his condition, and thus he knows that Itachi is awake and mending slowly. He knows that Itachi’s health is fragile, and Sakura’s reports suggest his mind is equally so. 

Of course it would be. Kakashi feels his throat tighten as a sickening and very recent sense of guilt fills his gut. 

He should have known. All those years ago, that earnest little child on his team, ready to follow whatever orders to the benefit of the village….

So young. Too young for ANBU.

When he learned of Itachi’s betrayal he couldn’t believe it. When he cleaned up the bodies and the blood left in the wake of Itachi’s rampage, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. He didn’t know what to believe. 

When he learned from the lips of a traitor and a friend the full truth of Itachi’s madness, it was a kick in the gut, the sting of a thousand curses, to realize that his first instinct, his utter disbelief, was right all along.

He has not visited Itachi since he woke. He doesn’t know what to say to him. How do you speak to a man you once knew as a boy, and then as a villain? How do you speak to a man who you’ve seen torture children, who has tortured you, knowing that it was done for the sake of a lie?

A desperate, terrible lie. 

How do you speak to a man when you know the grave he stands before: a once dear friend long gone, who you were so sure lost his life at the hands of the man you are watching mourn him?  
Kakashi finds himself stalled with no answers, only his guilt.

He watches Itachi fall to his knees, bracing himself against the dew-wet earth. He witnesses him bow his head, his dark hair falling forward, curtaining him as if to protect him from the anguish in front of him. He watch’s Itachi’s shoulders shake with grief, with sobs he must have held back for a decade, unable to mourn for fear of the consequences.

He hears the primal, painful scream he will never hear again, that no other person will ever witness, and feels he is intruding. 

He feels he has seen too much. 

Praying that no one else has witnessed this private misery, Kakashi scans the horizon, seeking any other accidental voyeurs.

There is one person at the cemetery’s gate. Waiting. Watching. Something peaceful calms the ocean-deep energy of his presence. Itachi is not alone, but neither has his companion intruded. His companion clearly knows what he needs.

Kakashi allows himself to disappear. He takes himself away from this tragedy, because it isn’t his to see. His own routine can wait a day; Rin and Obito will understand. 

Hoshigaki Kisame nods to him just outside the gate, waiting patiently for his partner. His presence in the village is a dubious and to-be-short-lived one for now, but Kakashi wonders if that will change in the future. It’s hard to say; there are too many people alive who should be dead these days for Kakashi to think it worth writing their future in stone.

“I won’t tell him.” Kisame knows he is doing Kakashi a favor. “But I would like to know who he mourns for.”

“I’ll do you the same favor,” Kakashi returns. “His name was Uchiha Shisui.” 

Kisame nods his thanks. Kakashi smiles beneath his mask. For all Itachi’s secrecy, he cannot hide the truth of himself now. If nothing else, there are two people who will always know he mourned the death of his best friend here in this mist-covered mourning.

And they will know that man’s name. 

\------------------------

“He told you.” 

Kisame pauses as he pulls Itachi’s hair back from his shoulders and reluctantly accepts that he cannot fulfil his honest promise to the Hokage. He is not surprised. Hatake Kakashi’s coincidental presence at the cemetery was not expected by either of them, but in retrospect Kisame decides it would have been worth canvassing the area ahead of time to tally frequent visitors and their habits. A cemetery is the sort of place that attracts regular visitors.

Itachi is not so unobservant even in the midst of his grief.

“There are not many people you would visit in death,” Kisame tells Itachi. “I would like to know what makes this one special. You aren’t a man prone to nostalgia.”

Itachi smiles and rolls his shoulder, subtly prompting Kisame to continue what he was doing. Kisame retrieves Itachi’s hair tie from the table at his bedside and resumes pulling his partner’s hair back. Itachi can do it himself now, but his request that Kisame assist him is, for him, an unsubtle wish for companionship that Kisame will not turn down. They haven’t seen each other in months. The last either of them heard of the other, they were dead.

Itachi is not often prone to noticeable displays of affection. Before their separation, there were the occasional, surreal moments when Itachi would offer a momentary suggestion, or give Kisame a look as if he wanted something more.

The moment would pass. Kisame would wonder what it would have become if he were a man less inclined to respect his partner’s boundaries. The friendship they developed in their partnership was a rarity enough to be cherished. That Kisame would appreciate their relationship changing into something more romantic was a dream he would not impose upon Itachi. 

He knew of Itachi’s plans to face his brother long before it happened. He often wondered what would have happened if Itachi were willing to give up that suicidal goal. 

Now they have a moment. They’ve had several since Kisame woke Itachi, since Itachi tried and failed to strike him for fear he was a dream. In the steadily shortening time Kisame has to safely be in Konoha to visit, they have been more open with each other than they were ever able to be. 

The freedom of a newly granted opportunity that might never have been if Itachi’s ultimate goal succeeded. Now they are free of the few secrets that remained between them, and unburdened by the obligations that kept them from expressing their true regard for each other.

“He was my cousin,” Itachi tells him. “And aside from you, perhaps the only person I have ever trusted.”

In brief, Itachi tells Uchiha Shisui’s story. That he tells the story at all expresses to Kisame just how deep Itachi’s affection for his cousin ran, and just how devastating his death was. Even before Itachi explains the full effect of Shisui’s death on him, the awakening of his Mangekyo Sharingan, Kisame can see where the story is leading. Uchiha Shisui was, arguably, the man who made Itachi who he is. He has been a burden on Itachi’s heart as long as Kisame has known him, and it is only now that Kisame understands why. 

Kisame finishes tying Itachi’s hair back and leans against the bed’s backboard. Itachi reclines with him, closing his eyes as he rests against Kisame’s chest. It’s an unusual experience, that Itachi would be so openly relaxed at all, let alone affectionate in his relaxation. Kisame savors it, as he has every such moment since their reunion. An Itachi unburdened by his terminal goals is more than Kisame could have hoped for. 

He knows the stress of Itachi’s plans weighed on him. Seeing him like this reveals just how much. 

“Are you angry I asked his name?” Itachi shakes his head. “That the Hokage was there?”

“I can accept Kakashi’s presence. He is one of the few with enough understanding of the circumstances too…” he cuts himself off. He is bothered by Kakashi’s interruption, Kisame can tell, but he is rationalizing it as he does everything: he has no control over his situation, and thus will make the best of it he can. “Kakashi would understand,” he says instead.

Kisame doesn’t know enough about Konoha’s legendary Copy Ninja to say whether or not that is true, but he trusts Itachi’s judgement. He is a little curious as to why Itachi trusts Kakashi’s, but that is a question he can have answered another time. 

“Did you have someone once?” Itachi asks. There is no pressure to answer in his tone, only curiosity. An open curiosity that Kisame understands as an invitation. They could never be so candid with each other before, not when every moment was a conscious resistance of further intimacy. They both had it in them to allow their friendship to mature, but the inevitably of their conflicting goals kept them at a distance. 

Coupled with the potential for budding romantic and perhaps even carnal interest, it is amazing they avoided that potential disaster.

They could trust each other then. They could support each other. They could not entirely reveal themselves to each other. 

“I survived the Village of Bloody Mist because I did not, Itachi. I suppose you could say that because I knew that I did not, I was able to recognize the futility of my loyalty to their lies.”

“And so you joined Akatsuki to be free of those lies?”

“Perhaps my naive belief that their goals were any more trustworthy allowed them to lie to me too.”

“I am glad you did not carry that loyalty to the grave.”

“I could have,” Kisame admits. “It would have been simpler.” Than living with the guilt of knowing he’d betrayed yet another cause he pledged his loyalty to. Except his loyalty had already been betrayed from the moment he gave it. The briefest thought, that he could at least join Itachi in death, knowing in the end that he died a loyal man whatever the consequences, passed through his mind.

We don’t know what kind of people we truly are until the moment before our deaths.

Die a loyal man guarding the secrets of an organization working towards a world of absolute truth, a goal he believed in, or give in to the whispers in his mind that screamed betrayal at the sight of Madara’s face. The moment he realized who was truly in control of their organization, that whisper of doubt in his gut could no longer be ignored.

The Mizukage lied to him once; would he allow it to happen again?

He thought himself a fool for allowing that doubt to win, knowing Itachi must be judging him from beyond the grave. Until the Infinite Tsukiyomi took effect and he was ensnared in an endless world built on lies. Until he realized his instinct was right. 

“I have lost everything Itachi. Without Samehada, with no support, there isn’t much I can offer you, but when you have recovered, if you wish to find me I will tell you where.”

Itachi’s frail hand tightens where he rests it against Kisame’s sleeve. He doesn’t want Kisame to leave, but that is inevitable. Kisame is not welcome in Konoha, and it will be a danger to them both if he insists on staying. Though they are weakened, the darker forces at work within the village will inevitably target them as potential threats. 

Itachi is not yet healthy enough to counter such a threat, nor to be considered one. Kisame will not allow him to be threatened because of his presence.

So when Itachi is healthy enough… then perhaps they can become companions again. For the few days he is able to spend in Konoha, he will have to relish as much of his partner’s company as he is able.

“Before, you wouldn’t have lied to yourself for my sake.” Itachi sounds amused. “Though I suppose Samehada may have been your only loyal companion before me. I am sorry for your loss.” Itachi’s genuine care stabs at Kisame’s gut. Most would not recognize his old sword as more than a weapon, but when Itachi says it, Kisame is forced to recognize the truth.

Well then, perhaps he did have someone. And inevitably, someone who betrayed him in the end. Though he will never break in the throes of his own mourning, he supposes that he has been mourning his sword’s loss all along. If he still strives to acknowledge the truth, then he should acknowledge that loss as one.

“Kisame neither of us are the masks we wore for our years together. Neither of us ever were; we knew that. Now that we have the opportunity to meet each other as our real selves, and not shadows, what we have lost is nothing compared to what we can gain together. I don’t consider our pasts or our sacrifices meaningless, but now we have the chance for a greater strength because of them.” 

Strength in bonds neither have been able to create. That both of them have resisted and destroyed in pursuit of their goals. 

“When I am strong enough, I will find you,” Itachi promises. “So promise me you will protect yourself until then. I would not lose you as I did him, because I was not there to protect you.”

Kisame will guard that promise, and his life, with all the strength he has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am constantly curious about Kakashi's opinion on the Uchiha massacre. We never get much of a reaction from him after Obito reveals the truth.


	6. An Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi shows up on Kisame’s doorstep with an offer, and a question. The offer is professional. The question is considerably less so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time I earned that Teen rating.

Contrary to expectation, Itachi likes to be touched. Only in very specific circumstances and by very specific people, but in the presence of one of those people and in the right circumstances, he finds the urge to express his affection for his companions physically both frustrating and a little embarrassing. 

Perhaps that explains his habit of tapping people on the forehead. For those he shares genuine fondness for, he must often resist the urge to wrap his arms around them, to console them physically, but he cannot resist a touch. Since he cannot express the full emotion of his love for them in words, then gestures must be his sign, and he has both a reputation and a degree of propriety to maintain in public. 

And with those from whom he must hide his secrets. 

He is wholly entertained to see the gesture spreading. He catches his brother doing it to Sakura once, as he leaves on a mission. Like himself, Itachi knows Sasuke finds it difficult to express his feelings in words and that he has chosen Itachi’s gesture of affection as his own is flattering and comforting all at once. The gesture has not become a source of pain for him; Itachi is grateful that despite their history it has not. Sasuke, however, is not nearly as composed in hiding the full range of his emotions, and that is why Itachi has never seen him use that gesture on Naruto. Naruto is far too likely to call Sasuke on hiding something from him. 

By the time Itachi is healthy enough and ready enough to seek Kisame out, he has already resolved that such gestures and hints of his hidden affection are not going to be illusions he holds over his partner’s head. If there is one person Itachi resolves not to hide his fondness from, Kisame must be it. In public, of course, they must maintain a degree of propriety, but in the safety of their own space, those niceties are worthless between them.

Kisame hates lies. He hates secrets; they have done nothing but betray him and take from him. There can be no deeper show of his regard for Kisame than being honest with him. 

Itachi shows up on Kisame’s doorstep with an offer, and a question. The offer is professional. The question is considerably less so.

It takes three ferries and a borrowed boat to get to Kisame’s island. Located as far south as Water Country’s islands go, it is far enough out of the way that even the odd, vengeful Mist ninja isn’t likely to come looking for Kisame even if they know he is here. Itachi steps off of the boat he hitches to the islands small dock and takes the opportunity to catalog his friend’s life for the past four years. This is the first time he has visited Kisame’s home. Kisame has come to Konoha on more than one occasion. Each time he does he is given less grief for his presence, which Itachi considers a promising sign. The five Kages are going to have to accept what he is about to offer this man, regardless of their personal feelings about him. It will be easier if at least one of said Kages has already come to terms with his presence. 

A shark bumps Itachi’s boat. Healthy wariness makes Itachi look down for a moment, but the sight of it is actually more a comfort than a threat. 

“Itachi, you should have told me you were coming.”

Of course Kisame saw him land. Itachi looks up at his former and to be partner and feels a rush of warmth and affection for him that confirms his further intentions. He needs a partner again to complete this task the Kages have set for him, and there is no one he would like better for that role than the man standing before him. 

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

\------

Kisame doesn’t mind the intrusion at all. In fact, he insists on showing Itachi about the small island. It is a quaint one: a small spring near the center, curving reefs edging the beaches, a small forest of palms and flowering vines and broad-leafed trees skirting the shores. Kisame’s home is a small, whitewashed cottage that has been built onto in recent years, most likely by his own hand. It is comfortable and breezy, and practical in its accoutrements.

Itachi lays down his offer immediately. Kisame laughs at him for it, and if Itachi knew his friend less well, he would be offended and concerned by that laughter. In reality he expected it.

“Are you sure the Kages will agree to us working together on this?”

“They won’t have much choice.”

“You realize the last time either of us worked for a Kage, we ended up participating in a plot to end the world.”

“I have Kakashi’s assurance that this organization will not be used for covert affairs, nor against other nations. The need is real, and the oversight will make it more difficult for one of them to manipulate us to harm another nation. I have permission to accept or deny requests for missions as I see fit.”

“That is a surprising amount of trust to place on us. Do you trust the Hokage to keep his word?”

It is. “This time, I do.” 

He agrees, with more teasing, but with honest interest. The trust Kisame places in Itachi by agreeing to such a thing is more satisfying than the prospect of his partner returned. Kisame has been burned by Kages and superiors before. Now he is trusting Itachi’s judgement, that it won’t happen to him again. Itachi hopes that he can protect such trust.

His question, however, remains unanswered, and remains the far more difficult task he must complete. For this he must find a way to express his affection for this man in words, rather than in actions, because there cannot be any miscommunication between them.

But Itachi has little experience in verbalizing his affection for another. He isn’t entirely sure how. 

\--------

They fall into a simple routine as Kisame begins to prepare his home for an extended absence. Hurricane windows must be hung, the dock must be disassembled, and there are a myriad of other tasks that must be completed. Itachi helps as directed, all the while contemplating how to say what he needs to. 

Around noon they break for a quick lunch, and to rest by the beach. Itachi insists he doesn’t need it. He is healthier now than he has been in nearly ten years, ever since his illness began to eat away at him. Kisame tells him that he is going to take a break, and Itachi is welcome to join him, which Itachi interprets easily as Kisame telling him he’s being an idiot. There is no reason to push himself unnecessarily here. There are no enemies to fight, no deadlines to meet, no expectations he do and be more than he is. It takes Itachi a day or two to actually be comfortable with that, which he supposes isn’t a good indication of his mental state at the moment.

His concern over his inability to express what he needs to is showing. 

Sitting on the beach, enjoying the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on his face makes him anxious simply through inaction. 

So of course Kisame finally speaks to him about it, because it is unthinkable that he hasn’t noticed.

“Itachi, if there is something you need to say to me, I can wait until you are ready to say it, but it won’t be any good for our partnership if you keep secrets from me.”

Itachi promised himself he wouldn’t keep secrets from Kisame any longer. Old habits die hard, and they tear him to the core. 

Itachi has always expressed himself better in actions than in words. So it is in actions that, despite his attempts at words, he finally speaks. Frustration mixed with anxiety goad him to recklessness, and so on the porch that night, when Kisame finally nudges him, he gives in. He reaches across the space between them and his body follows. No tap on the forehead, no soft smile or hint, can express what he wishes to. 

He cups Kisame’s sharp cheeks, feels the sandpaper roughness of his skin, and when the surprise on Kisame’s face softens to warmth, he kisses Kisame like he has wanted to for years. 

Like he has resisted for years. Too many years. They have been together, have known each other, have been each other’s dearest companions for twelve years, and it is only now that Itachi can truly express to Kisame what he means to him. What he would like Kisame to mean to him.   
In the end, he must share that affection in gestures rather than words, for that is the only way he can express himself honestly. He should never have tried to do otherwise. 

Kisame’s large hands pull him close, cradling Itachi with the confidence of someone who no doubt had a hint this was coming, and the gentleness of someone who knows it could end at any moment. But in the pouring rush of emotion that overtakes Itachi, he can do nothing but squirm closer, tighter into Kisame’s arms. He can do nothing but kiss him open mouthed, his tongue nicking the sharp points of Kisame’s teeth, burying himself in the warmth of an opportunity he has never been able to act on. 

It is Kisame who finally attempts to slow him down, with only a moment’s success. He grips Itachi’s hair just hard enough for Itachi to feel it and kisses him hard enough to make Itachi feel as if his blood is boiling under his skin. Then he pulls away. Frustrated, Itachi feels the red wheels of his Sharingan spin to life as he tries to press in again. 

Itachi is not particularly experienced, but neither is he ignorant, and he knows exactly what he wants. He has waited twelve. fucking. years. to have this. 

“How far?” Kisame asks him, his breath satisfyingly labored. Itachi briefly contemplates that they are exposed on a beachside porch and quickly realizes how little that matters. No one else lives on this island, and even if they did, at the moment Itachi is inclined to tell any accidental voyeur to fuck right off. 

But Kisame has asked him for a straight answer and he loves this man too much not to give him one. His fear of the possibility of miscommunication rears its ugly head, and so he allows Kisame his moment’s hesitation. “I want you in every way you are willing to let me have you,” Itachi tells him in a whisper. “And I want you to have me in every way beyond that.” 

Itachi’s entire life has been a silent sacrifice to the people he loves. To the brother he loves more than he loves himself. He has never allowed himself to have something of his own, for fear of the consequences. Right here, right now, Kisame is the one thing he has ever wanted for himself, and he is finally on the edge of having it.

Whatever Kisame wants, he will accept. As long as it is some part of him that Itachi can keep for himself, he will take anything. Any way Kisame is willing to let him have it.

Kisame lifts Itachi and himself from his seat as if Itachi weighs virtually nothing, which is objectively not true, but that show of Kisame’s strength stabs a searing, painful desire into Itachi’s gut. The indignity of being carried so, clinging like he wants to mold himself into Kisame’s skin, is lost on Itachi in his lust. In the feel of those strong hands gripping his thighs. In the feel of Kisame’s desire pressed between his legs, echoing his own. 

Itachi bites down on Kisame’s throat in the moment before Kisame lays him out on his own bed and savors the growl of desire he earns for it. 

Before Kisame pins him down in a way that no other man could and returns the favor. The sharp hint of pain should be jarring, but instead it excites him, makes it impossible for him to mistake his lover for anyone else.

Their first time together as lovers is rushed and frantic. They have no time for gentleness, no patience, nothing but twelve years of built up frustration with each other to express and savor in kind. There will be time for patience later, when they know each other better like this. There will be time to explore every inch of Kisame’s skin, to hear him moan as Itachi worships the cut of each gill, to rile him into a glorious frenzy with every touch, but tonight is not that time. Tonight they are partners in a sense of the word that they have never been and have both desired for too long. 

Tonight Itachi can finally express the full scope of his affection in action, as he is best suited, rather than in meaningless words that he cannot speak. Tonight there are no more secrets between them, only the truth.

Only the prospect of a future where they can live their lives without the lies that have trapped them for so long. 

Itachi savors his partner’s warmth wrapped in the circle of his arms and allows himself to rest knowing not even the darkness of his past could possibly harm him here. Kisame knows all of it, and loves him anyway. Despite the blood on Itachi’s hands, Kisame fingers through Itachi’s hair as if savoring something precious. Itachi wonders at the strength of his own will, that he could have resisted Kisame’s affection for so long. 

He strokes a hand along the rough skin of Kisame’s chest and revels in knowing he never will have to again.


	7. Comrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in Konoha and having a life there are mutually exclusive factors that Itachi never expects to achieve.

Torinosuke’s is a small izakaya in downtown Konoha. Slightly more than a hole in the wall, known for cheap liquor and excellent but most definitely unhealthy food, it became a regular hang out for Kakashi’s generation of jounin somewhere around ten years ago. 

He was not the first person to make it so. In fact he was one of the last people to be dragged into it. That feat can still to this day be blamed on Asuma, who hauled Kurenai and Guy there the night after they earned their promotion and got them riotously drunk. Guy cried something about their blooming youth and the bittersweet sorrow of upgrading from their favorite dango shop to this beer-stained hell hole (even though they never stopped going to that dango shop), and Kurenai made Asuma take care of it. They all stumbled home remembering enough: that the food was good, the drinks were cheap, and no one bothered them.

So they went back. 

They went back a lot. Especially after their first few missions, when the stress of their new position as jounin was still enough to get to them. They started taking friends. 

Of course there are only so many Konoha ninja their rank, let alone their age, and it was worse back then. It was pretty much them and a few chunin from their Academy days. (Umino Iruka needs to be taken out for drinks on a semi-regular basis. His rants about the Academy kids are priceless.) The only other people left back then were their infamously enigmatic classmate, Hatake Kakashi, and a twelve year old boy with too much real-world experience to easily socialize with his own classmates. 

So yes, Itachi has actually been to Torinosuke’s before. When Kakashi semi-seriously asks him if he’s interested in dropping by, about a year after he’s returned to Konoha, Itachi doesn’t have to ask him where it is or what it is. He does, however, have to ask why. His few experiences with the place were the result of being dragged in by his former ANBU teammates knowing that if he were to actually allow himself to relax in their presence he’d hear a mess of rants from his father later. 

Twelve years old is old enough to assassinate a man, but apparently not old enough to actually enjoy himself with his teammates, drinking or no.

Thus Itachi’s experiences weren’t particularly fun. More importantly, Itachi has no idea why Kakashi, of all people, is asking him, nor why anyone would want to socialize with him at all. Though the truth of his exile is semi-public knowledge (anyone with any security clearance knows just about the whole story, unfortunately), Itachi doesn’t expect that to translate to a sudden comfort with his presence. The civilian population is less well informed. He expects hostility from those who might actually recognize him. 

He has just moved into his own apartment. He no longer has the social benefit of his brother’s friends dropping by. Haruno Sakura has decided he needs to socialize with someone, and has thus occasionally invited him for the surprisingly pleasant activity of joining her and Hyuuga Hinata for lunch. 

But those are his brother’s friends. His brother’s family. His heart-family, those he can trust and those who have believed in him through every stage of madness Itachi put his brother through. That they might be so accepting makes some sense; they will be so because Sasuke has decided to be so. That such sentiment translates in part to their peers makes some sense as well; Sasuke’s Academy comrades trust Naruto’s judgement, and Naruto has decided Itachi is safe. 

Hatake Kakashi’s generation not only saw and (thought they) understood the full effects of Itachi’s actions, several of them helped clean the mess up, both physically and emotionally. They were there, dealing with a reeling village, a traumatized child, and a diplomatic nightmare (that would have been millions of times worse) while Itachi was fleeing.

Leaving behind everything he ever cared about or knew, knowing there was no going back. Knowing that he’d left behind whatever heart he had drowning in his mother’s blood, in his father’s pride, and his brother’s cries, and that there was only one thing left for him to do. Survive. Survive and ensure that Danzo kept his promise. That the last piece of good in his life, the only thing worth those deaths, was spared. 

Itachi is startled to find Kakashi standing by his door when he returns home from shopping. So surprised that he has to regrip the handle of his grocery bag, because his first instinct is to drop it and reach for a knife. In his current state he would lose to this man in an instant. His health is stable, yes, but can only tolerate very mild training. He doesn’t dare attempt to use his eyes, for his chakra is still dedicated to repairing the damage he has done to himself. 

Instead of attacking, Kakashi makes an offer. “Come to Torinosuke’s tonight.” 

Itachi thinks to question why. Why is Kakashi, no, why is the Sixth Hokage, asking him out for the evening. His surprise must be apparent. Kakashi shrugs and saunters by him, headed for the stairs. “If you want to. A few of us’ll be there.” 

Itachi doesn’t give him an answer. 

He considers his options for the several hours he has free, up until he will have to either accept or decline. 

In the end, curiosity compels him to try. Or perhaps he really is a masochist; he has no idea what or who to expect there, and for all he knows this could be a cruel trick. If so, if Kakashi’s goal is to present him his victims and allow them to take some sort of vengeance upon him, then better to get this over with. Itachi can handle himself, and Kakashi cannot allow any real harm to come to him. He can’t afford to; yes he is Hokage, and yes he has every right and reason to try Itachi for his crimes and punish him, but if he hasn’t done it yet then he isn’t likely to. 

If he does, he will have to contend with Sasuke, and even Kakashi can no longer handle Itachi’s brother. Itachi doesn’t really like the idea that his safety might be dependent on the unpredictability of his brother’s temper, but it is a factor, regardless of his opinion. 

Despite his reservations, the night is not a disaster. Itachi is clearly recognized when he enters Torinosuke’s. Several patrons (most of them ninja, all of them chunin rank or higher) recognize him immediately. There are whispers, as is to be expected. There are glances, the sensation of hostility. 

Kakashi is not there, but Kurenai is. She comes to meet him at the door and, to his surprise, lead him to a partitioned booth near the back. Itachi removes his shoes as she does and slides inside, unsure of what to expect. But it’s just her. “The others should be here soon.” Itachi doesn’t remember Kakashi as being anything less than punctual. Strange. 

He looks up at Kurenai and remembers that the last time he encountered her, their battle of illusions went...quickly. He isn’t sure what to say to her. He has never been close to Kakashi’s former classmates, casual acquaintances only, but he does respect this woman. There aren’t many people, after all, who could trap him in a genjutsu at all. 

“Hey Kurenai. How’s Mirai?” Kakashi saves Itachi from his indecision, taking a causal seat beside him as if he hasn’t even noticed Itachi is there. Mirai? Itachi looks at Kakashi, then at her, then at Guy, who piles in with them. 

And no one else. His lips part. He wants to ask. When he tries to, Kakashi turns to him and, as Guy gives Kurenai an enthusiastic hello, quietly tells him, “Asuma was killed last year. It was one of your colleagues.”

Who…. and then Itachi remembers. Hidan. He and Kakuzu ran into a Konoha team hunting members of their organization. He suppresses a shudder, because though Hidan himself was little more than a passing annoyance, his abilities and his glorification of their inherent sadism never sat well with Itachi. It was fortunate that Nagato was clever enough never to pair them together, because Itachi suspects he wouldn’t have had any regrets about cutting the moron’s head off in his sleep and burying it in a compost pile.  
It’s not like it would have killed him.

He’s probably still alive somewhere in pieces. That’s a disturbing thought. 

But Itachi accepts Kakashi’s subtle message and does not mention Asuma’s absence. He didn’t know the man well, but these people did, and he has no interest in hurting them. 

The evening is awkward. Guy is his enthusiastically overwhelming self. Itachi doesn’t know what to do with him when he reaches across the table, grasps Itachi’s reluctant hands, and demands he confirm that Hoshigaki Kisame is alive. Tears prick the corners of Guy’s eyes. “What a battle! You should have seen it! Stubborn to the end, and such commendable loyalty. It is good to hear he survived. I would very much like to meet him again.”

Itachi isn’t entirely sure what to do with that. He is oddly touched to hear Guy’s excited retelling of Kisame’s final battle, up until the brief description of his capture. He feels his throat tighten as Guy describes the interrogation, not in obscene detail, but with enough clarity that Itachi can imagine it. 

He can imagine Kisame’s thoughts leading up to his last final option. The inevitability of his choice: trust that Madara was honest in his intentions and die for the sake of it, or allow his suspicions to overcome him. 

Itachi came so close to losing him. 

“Guy.” Kakashi shoves a drink in his rival’s face. The twinkle of perceptiveness in Guy’s eyes momentarily reveals his understanding, before the subject changes abruptly to when and where he might meet Kisame again. 

That is a more comfortable topic. Itachi cannot actually tell him, because Kisame hasn’t told him yet, but Guy’s intentions do not seem hostile. 

When the evening comes to a close, and Itachi is thoroughly overwhelmed by their company, Guy invites him to return. Kakashi, who has spent the evening mostly in silence, with the occasional redirection of topic, smiles at Itachi, his cheeks lifting over the corners of his mask as if to say “see.” 

Kurenai, as they part, offers Itachi her hand. Then pulls him into a hug. Itachi goes rigid in her arms, startled but too weak still to pull away, which frightens him. He knows in her grip that he couldn’t fight her in this state, but her hold remains gentle. Warm. “Shh,” she whispers. “We’re glad you’re home, Itachi.” 

Itachi doesn’t know how to answer her. She doesn’t demand an answer, just lets him go. 

A few evenings later, when Kakashi arrives with a similar invitation, Itachi accepts. 

And continues to accept. 

When Itachi begins working missions for the ISIA, such invitations are rarer due to his extended absences, but they are in their own way more satisfying. Perhaps it is because Itachi finds he actually enjoys and thus misses the company of these people. He does have peers of his own, but his early graduation puts him in an odd limbo where he doesn’t even really know who his peers are. Kakashi’s peers are not quite his, but they are closer to him in experience than his own might be, and he has some liminal connection to them. To be entirely fair, Kakashi must feel himself in a similar position. These people he considers his friends are a year or two older than him, and graduated later. 

Itachi suspects, however, that his satisfaction does not come from having someone closer to his maturity to talk to, but from the fact that these particular jounin accept Kisame’s presence as well. 

At first they invite him because he’s Itachi’s partner and they’re curious. Guy, of course, recognizes him (loudly) on sight. Kisame’s reply? 

“Who are you again?” With this shit-eating grin on his face that says Kisame knows exactly who Guy is and is enjoying every last second of Guy’s near cosmically dramatic letdown. It is all Itachi can do to not laugh. Kakashi has the added advantage of a mask, and Itachi can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. Kurenai all but chokes on her drink. 

Vengeance is sweet. 

(Eventually Guy does calm down enough to realize that Kisame is completely screwing with him. It becomes some kind of weird ritual between them. Even Torinosuke’s owner gets in on it, bringing drinks for each of them and then “something someone ordered,” being Guy’s favorite drink. He might even have renamed the drink that. Everyone in Konoha knows who Might Guy is, so it’s a lighthearted tease at best.)

Seeing Kisame here, with him, laughing with a group of people who could to some loose degree even be called friends over a drink, telling stories of their escapades and listening to stories in turn, is refreshing. It’s surreal. It’s nothing Itachi ever even considered having in his life for himself, let alone for his partner. Kisame looks at home here. He’s always been the more sociable of them. 

He’s also always been less trusting.

The first few times both of them go, Itachi asks Kisame about it afterwards. Teases him really, because he can’t quite believe Kisame is as comfortable in that setting as he acts. Kisame throws an arm around his shoulder, still riding the jovial high of comradery, even if it is superficial comradery, and explains it to him as best he can. “Just because I might have to kill them tomorrow doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the moment for what it is.” 

To Itachi, living in the moment without considering the future consequences is impossible. To him, that Kisame can sit and eat and laugh with people he might be forced to turn on smells like a lie. It’s pretty much the only situation during which Itachi can tease Kisame for being more dishonest than he is. 

“Would you have thought the same of me?”

“When we first met? Sure.” Kisame ruffles Itachi’s hair gently. “By that logic, I guess someday I might come to think they won’t turn on me.” 

Someday. When time has proven Kisame’s very real cautions unnecessary. When they are both able to build a life of more than just the two of them. The idea of having actual friends has never really occurred to Itachi, because he has never really had them. There has never been enough time, and then he up gave what time he might have had. For Kisame, a friend has always been a risk. Someone that will someday stab him in not just the back, but the heart as well. For him there hasn’t been a point in making friends.

Somehow, in the opportunity that is their new lives, they are both given the chance to have what they have never been able to: a life beyond the mission, a place to call home, and people whom they might be able to trust for more than mutual gain. 

Years later, when they’ve settled down and ceased their constant string of missions, Itachi thanks Kakashi for it. Kakashi, behind his ever-present mask of indifference, allows Itachi a moment of sincerity in his acceptance. “You deserve it. Both of you.”

Itachi will never agree with that, but he will appreciate it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Asuma’s still dead.
> 
> The name Torinosuke’s is most definitely borrowed from a real izakaya that is not hidden in a village of ninja, but in the very real and pretty awesome city of Kobe.


	8. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoshigaki Kisame meets a child with a heart full of lies. He leaves behind the only man he has ever come to trust.   
> Canon-timeline introspection transition into the Opportunity-verse.

In Kisame’s measured experience, three things are true of the lives of shinobi: there is no mission or dogma or person that they can wholly trust, only those who are strong and lucky in equal measure survive, and lies eventually come to light. 

No matter how deep, no matter how well hidden. No lie remains a secret forever. 

When he first meets Uchiha Itachi, Kisame sees the eyes of a liar. Whether it is his experience that draws that conclusion for him, or whether Itachi simply looks insincere does not matter. Kisame’s life has been spent in the service of lies, and in the service of a new truth he has been given a child for a partner. 

Were it not for the widely spread rumors about this child, he would think that a joke. A clan killer; that at least he can relate to on some twisted level. Reason and motive don’t matter for a man with the blood of allies on their hands. Nothing washes that stain away.

Itachi does not speak of his past. He performs every task and order with meticulous efficiency. He answers when spoken to, in clipped but sometimes profound words for a thirteen-year-old, and he fits himself in at Kisame’s side as if he was meant to be there.

A fast, trickster-counterpart to Kisame’s bolder tactics. 

But he is still a liar. 

For five years, Kisame accepts Itachi’s lies by omission as he learns the truth of him in his actions, for Itachi never speaks lies to him. Instead he kills only those he is ordered to kill and no others. He ends his battles quickly before collateral damage can be incurred. He uses and learns better and more effective genjutsu more and more, until sometimes the pair of them walk out of an assignment without any fight at all.

The first time Kisame sees Itachi use the tsukiyomi on an opponent, a young team of genin from Kusagakure have run afoul of them. They are carrying a message Akatsuki needs to plan its next move. Kisame thinks it worthless to send two ninja of his and Itachi’s caliber for such a task, but Akatsuki doesn’t deal in minions. Were it up to him, these children would be eliminated in an instant.

Itachi has all three genin and their jounin leader caught in three seconds of an illusion that leaves them catatonic and weeping on the ground before Kisame can even draw Samehada. Itachi picks the message scroll out of a pack and tosses it to Kisame. “We’re done here.” 

The first time Kisame sees Itachi use tsukiyomi, he also hears Itachi’s first verbal lie. 

“You should rest Itachi.” His partner is rubbing at his eyes unconsciously. There is a sway in his step that is uncalled for given the difficulty of their mission.

“I’m fine,” Itachi lies. 

So it begins. There remain few true lies between them, but as many secrets as there ever were. And Itachi’s one, damning weakness. 

They come to an impasse with time. A measure of camaraderie develops in the ease of their actions. They work well together. Kisame would never have guessed it, but Itachi’s skills are an excellent compliment to his own. The boy never holds him back. Kisame could even say he becomes fond of Itachi in his own way. In a measured, cautious way, because Kisame knows better than to allow himself to become truly attached to anyone, even a partner of Itachi’s skill.

Especially to a liar. 

Five years pass. Abruptly something changes. 

“I need to visit Konoha.” 

Kisame can hardly believe his ears. “Konoha? Itachi, are you insane.” 

“We have been ordered to seek out the Kyuubi’s jinchuuriki, Kisame. We need to go.” 

Those black eyes look at him with a measure of sincerity, of true passion, that Kisame has never seen. In the five years Kisame has known him, Itachi has never shown more than the most occasional hint of real emotion. It is only in the way he tosses in the night, in the way he sometimes wakes and steps away from their fire or outside their room and just sits staring into nothing, that Kisame catches glimpses of the effect his past has had on him. Now there is a fury burning in Itachi’s eyes that sparks something visceral in Kisame’s gut. Passion responds to passion, sincerity to sincerity. Itachi has never asked anything of him but that he not ask for his secrets. 

Kisame, reluctantly, agrees to the mission. 

It is a revelation all in itself. 

They are confronted by faces both old and new. Itachi knows the jounin he confronts. All of them. They recognize him so quickly Kisame realizes they must have been personally acquainted. They are not pleased to see him. Itachi is as careful as ever to allow them to live, even despite the honest threat they pose. 

That isn’t the most troubling confrontation. Kisame recognizes Itachi’s younger brother instantly. They look so much alike that there is no one else the child could be. Worse, Kisame sees the very moment their supposed mission goes sideways in the second that the boy attacks. This mission was never about finding the Kyuubi kid. 

In a way it’s a relief when the Sannin Jiraiya comes along, because it gives Kisame a reason to pull Itachi away. The mission is a scrub anyway, and his partner’s actions have quickly deteriorated from mildly inflammatory to downright reckless. Itachi is usually the soul of efficiency in his missions. But not today. 

Kisame repeats his own words later that night when they’ve finally found an out of the way inn where they can safely rest. Itachi is clearly exhausted. Using the Mangekyo Sharingan more than twice in a day drains him dangerously. It was reckless of him to use it as he did today, and reckless of Kisame to let him. He already requires glasses to read at night; his sight can only get worse the more rash he is. 

Kisame isn’t sure he could have stopped Itachi anyway. 

“That was cruel of you, using tsukiyomi on your own brother.”

Itachi didn’t respond to him the first time he said it. Kisame does not expect a reaction now. 

So the sharp hiss of a kunai being drawn takes him by surprise. Itachi launches himself at Kisame, but he is exhausted and only half-heartedly trying. Kisame moves to catch him mid-strike and nearly laughs until he sees the red wheels of Itachi’s Sharingan spinning angrily into the Mangekyo. 

Until he sees the raw frustration, the anger, the anguish in Itachi’s face. Emotion, more emotion than Kisame has ever seen from him. Five years they’ve traveled and lived together, and the expression on Itachi’s face takes Kisame so off guard that he misses Itachi’s strike. Itachi’s kunai knicks the skin of his arm just below a gill and then drops to the floor. 

Itachi drops to his knees, shaking. His expression shifts from red-hot anger to a terrifying pallor that turns Kisame’s stomach. Kisame has no idea what to do. 

He does the only thing he can do: pick Itachi up from the ground, lead him to one of the beds and sit him in it, pour him a glass of water and hope that there is something else. Itachi sits gripping the glass of water with trembling hands, his eyes downcast and listless, as if all he can see are the horrors in his mind. 

But Kisame has to know. This is not normal. He has seen ninja lose their resolve in the midst of battle or after, seen them break. He can extrapolate from evidence that Itachi’s reaction must be connected to their confrontation with his brother, but nothing Kisame knows about Itachi’s past fits with this.

Kisame has always known Itachi as a liar. That there is more to his story than he will say. He has accepted that; it isn’t his business to pry into his partner’s past. But it isn’t just Itachi’s past anymore. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Itachi, you risked both our lives today. If we are to continue as partners, you need to tell me why.” 

It is a moment before Itachi speaks. “I can’t.” 

Which in itself is an admission. Kisame has always sensed something off about Itachi’s story; a child who goes out of his way to preserve the lives of his usual targets murdering his entire clan in an attempt to test his own prowess doesn’t fit. It never has. There has always been more to the tale. Now Itachi is admitting Kisame’s suspicions were right. 

“Who am I going to tell, Itachi?”

Itachi looks up at him. There is fear in his eyes, a deep, old, twisted fear that Kisame recognizes. He’s seen the same look staring back at him in the mirror. 

I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone.

Trust. Kisame wants to laugh. That is what is keeping the pair of them from the truth. Of course. Five years, but of course Itachi has as little faith in Kisame as Kisame does in him. Because there have always been lies between them. Whatever Itachi is hiding, this dark secret that can rattle the serene bars of his mind so thoroughly, cannot be revealed without his absolute trust. 

Who am I going to tell. What a joke. 

Kisame could promise him things. He could promise he will say nothing to their leader. He could promise he will take Itachi’s secret to the grave. 

There is nothing he can tell this young man. Kisame would know best, wouldn’t he. There is no one in this world they can trust. 

Kisame has two choices: he can let this matter go, or he can make a fool’s attempt to build some measure of faith between them. 

He closes his eyes and he once again chooses to be a fool. What does he have to lose, telling Itachi his secrets? Who can use them against him now? He’s been gone from Kiri so long the entire nation must be changed. His secrets aren’t worth the weight of confidence any longer. 

But they might be worth this: Itachi listens. 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell Kisame his own tale. He doesn’t have some miraculous realization that Kisame is the one exception to his fears. He listens, and when Kisame is done he quietly sips his glass of water and tucks his feet under the blankets. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t sleep. 

The next morning, he allows Kisame a hint of the truth. “As another who has killed their comrades, you must understand the lines between duty, choice, and betrayal.”

Kisame considers that Itachi expects him to understand better than anyone else might. To interpret Itachi’s meaning beneath his words. He finds himself somewhat satisfied in the substantial revelation Itachi has allowed him and realizes that perhaps he and his young companion are more alike than he first realized.

Things change between them. Rapidly. After five years, the olive branch of truth between them grows a bond that Kisame has never known. One he realizes he might actually miss in losing.

Then there can be no more secrets between them, for the dam of lies is broken in a horrific instant. 

A battle. A deadly one, against a powerful foe. Itachi’s not inconsiderable power is stretched to his limit, and as they stagger in victory away, Kisame watches his partner fall to his knees for the second time. But this time it is not shock and post-traumatic stress that fells him. Blood stains Itachi’s hand as he coughs violently, his body shaking with tremors Kisame fears might be worse than exhaustion. There is no one but him to pick Itachi up and carry him. To clean the blood from his mouth and hands and find him a safe place to rest. 

To realize that his partner is in far worse condition than he knew.

They see medic after doctor after black-market scientist. Itachi is eighteen when he is told he has a year to live. 

The first thing he tells Kisame, when he is able, is that isn’t good enough. 

Kisame demands to know why, and at last Itachi can no longer keep the truth from him. In his desperate state, he has realized that he cannot complete his last mission alone, that he must at last trust another, trust Kisame, with the secrets eating at him. 

So Itachi tells him: his mission, the murder of his clan, his brother, all of it. 

Most of it. In bits and frustrating pieces that Kisame must pry from his secretive, shaking hands. Kisame gets enough of the picture. And he hates it. 

He knows there is more Itachi cannot say to him.

He knows his partner of six years intends to die. 

He knows the only way he can show the measure of respect he has grown for this young man is to help him fulfil his terrible quest. 

Itachi is one of the strongest people Kisame knows. Watching him slowly decline at the mercy of a disease they cannot find a cure to, and watching him persevere for the sake of giving meaning to his own death in the form of repentance, is almost too much. Kisame realizes he has come to care for this boy who has grown into a man under his watch. Though he knows better, though he swore he wouldn’t give in to affection, he fails to fulfil his promises to himself. 

Itachi’s last evening comes as softly as the whisper of a spring wind. He looks at Kisame over their fire, and Kisame knows. “Sasuke will be here tomorrow.” Silently, without words, he urges Kisame to flee. Those dark eyes, a heartless abyss to others, are a whirlpool of apologies Itachi cannot say, of fears he cannot voice, of wishes he cannot expect to be fulfilled. 

Kisame hates to disappoint him, but he has come to care for this young man too much not to. “Sasuke has companions with him, yes? I’ll hold them back for you.” 

Itachi doesn’t voice the denial Kisame reads on his lips. He accepts the gift Kisame is giving him. 

There isn’t much else he can give.

Kisame leaves Itachi seated upon an archaic throne in an ancient mausoleum that has seen its last day. The last he sees of Itachi alive is the soft smile on his partner’s face that whispers a voiceless thank you, and the wheels of his Sharingan turning those expressive dark eyes of his from black to heartless red.

Meeting Itachi’s brother’s foolish companions is a momentary distraction. An appreciated one. One that keeps Kisame’s every thought from the battle he can hear raging behind him, from the black flames he can feel from afar licking at the trees. From the knowledge that the only person he has ever allowed himself to care for is dying behind him and there is nothing he can do about it.

He doesn’t have his heart in it when he battles Suigetsu, the young punk who thinks he is worthy of Zabuza’s sword. He doesn’t have the will to beat him bloody, though a part of him wants to. All his heart can concern itself with is every flicker of familiar scarlet chakra as it flashes and burns....

...and weakens.

...and dies.

Kisame keeps his composure long enough to bid his foes farewell. He fades into the trees to watch them gather Itachi’s brother from the wreckage of the mausoleum. He waits long enough to watch that young woman collect Itachi’s eyes from his lifeless body.

And when they have left, when the ruins are silent but for rain and the hiss of ever-burning flame, then he comes to bid Itachi his final respects. 

He remembers this man as a child full of secrets, a youth full of lies. He remembers five years of peace between them, acceptance of their place with each other and the secrets between them.

He remembers that shattering in a sharing of trust and horrific truth. He remembers witnessing the revelation of Itachi’s true heart beneath his remarkable heartless shell. He remembers watching the boy-then-a-man fall to his knees, walking dead not by a knife but by the betrayal of his own body. He remembers watching that slow and painful decline. 

He gathers Itachi’s body to himself and bows his head in the rain that falls upon them. He will have no other moment to mourn this loss, so he takes it. 

He appreciates it. 

For all the lies between them, no other person in Kisame’s life has given him the gift of the secrets in their heart. No one else has trusted him to protect them honestly. No one else has striven for a measure of truth with him as Itachi has. 

No one else has so kept Kisame’s trust, nor proven themselves worthy of it. Of any companion Kisame has ever followed, Itachi alone is the one who has never betrayed him. Lied to him, yes. Kept secrets from him, yes. Never betrayed. 

Now whatever might have been between them is gone.

Now Itachi is gone.

He deserves to rest in peace. 

Earth jutsu are not Kisame’s speciality, but he uses what he knows to build a tomb. To build a safe resting place for his partner’s body. Beneath the wreckage of this mausoleum, another is dug. Kisame fills it to the brim and sets his own summons, the meanest sharks in his arsenal, as silent guards. No one will disturb Itachi’s rest, not so long as the chakra Kisame laces the seawater with holds. 

Not until long after he is dead. 

Kisame seals the entrance to that grave and turns away, leaving behind his last hope for peace and truth. He leaves his heart buried with it, knowing he will likely never need it again. 

There isn’t a point. There is only one person who could possibly have earned it anyway, and he is gone.


	9. New Years Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration, family, home.

A pleasant, cool breeze sweeps through the apartment corridor as Itachi holds the door open for Kisame and Kisame hides one last knife in the sleeve of his kimono.

It’s New Year’s Eve, the first they have spent in Konoha together, and they can already hear the sounds of festivities in the streets below. Fireworks are crackling behind fences, laughter echoes, and the smells of savory food fill the air. Their street is relatively quiet. Most of their neighbors have already left for the center of town, but they still need to pause for a pair of children darting by, sparklers in hand as they play chase through the streets. 

Itachi greets one of the ANBU on guard at the street corner. He vaguely remembers that duty from his childhood, and knows this woman will someday earn enough seniority to avoid it, but she and her cohort’s presence are a necessary caution. It is a night for fun, for reveling, for celebration, but this is a village of ninja. They are not fools. 

They meet Naruto, Hinata, and their children at the corner of the main street. Colorful stalls have bloomed into existence over the course of the day, their bright signs advertizing every indulgence imaginable. Itachi immediately spots a stall for Amaguriama’s sweets shop and apparently he isn’t subtle enough about his interest, because Kisame laughs and nudges him. “Bet the kids would like a treat.” 

“Uncle ‘tachi, can we go?” Boruto tugs on Itachi’s kimono. A smile tugs the corner of Itachi’s lip as he silently asks Hinata’s permission. 

“It is a festival,” she allows with a sweet smile of her own. Boruto’s face lights up like a firework.

Naruto hangs back and grins as he nudges Kisame. “Glad you two are here tonight.” 

Kisame looks at him and decides that yeah, he kind of is too. It feels weird, but a good kind of weird, to be surrounded by such open cheer in a village that trains ninja. Somehow the festivities make Konoha seem more honest than deceptive. 

Real people are moving through real streets covered in the fantasy garb of a real celebration. They aren’t playing at being less or more than they are: human. 

Sasuke and Sakura round the corner with Sarada as Itachi leads Boruto off. Sakura pushes Sarada to scamper after them; she nearly trips with the unfamiliar restrictions of her bright red kimono. The tiny wings of white cranes flutter at her hems as they dive into the plum blossoms climbing her sleeve. She’s not quite old enough for an obi yet, and Itachi catches her by the collar of her hifu before she trips into him. 

He makes sure she gets her own bag of roasted chestnuts too. 

As a half manageable clump of coordinated individuals, they wander the streets. Naruto keeps Boruto’s hand in his; the boy is constantly looking every which way, pointing out games and souvenir booths, and other children running buy. He sees a friend and insists he’s definitely old enough to go play with them, and can he, can he please? 

Boruto is not yet three years old. Naruto smiles at him and says “Yeah, but today’s family time,” and gets a solemn pout and nod in return. Just ahead Sasuke smiles, listening, as Sarada tugs his hand so she can hold it. She doesn’t get to see her father often, which makes today all the more special. Sasuke returns to Konoha erratically during most of the year, but for New Years, and for her birthday, he always manages to get himself home.

Itachi slides himself between Kisame and Sakura as they meander, closer and closer to their first stop for the day. Nerves prickle under his skin, because he knows where they’re going, and this is the first time he has joined Sasuke’s family for this yearly ritual. The steps of the old Naka shrine are dark as they climb them. Sakura and Hinata carry lanterns to light their way. At the top of the hill, the only thing that remains standing is the ash-streaked torii gate, but Itachi’s mind snaps picture perfect memories before his eyes. 

Sasuke parts from the group, leading Sarada with him. This is their heritage, and a ritual Sasuke has completed since before his daughter’s birth. Itachi hesitates to follow them. He feels it isn’t his place to invade the sanctuary of his ancestors, even in its mangled state, for he is the reason they are ghosts haunting every step he takes forward here. 

Hinata lays a soft hand on his arm. When Itachi looks at her, she smiles, and that smile urges him forward despite his silent protest. Of anyone here she can understand the weight of ritual and tradition, the weight of the eyes of ancestors watching and demanding the correct action. 

“Go ahead, Itachi,” Kisame bends to whisper in his ear. 

Itachi shivers in a cool breeze suddenly gone chill. Sasuke turns back, beckons him forward.

The three living descendants of the Uchiha clan stand before the destroyed shrine, one a solemn survivor, one a wide-eyed child, and one a repentant sinner, for the moment it takes to pay their respects. 

Behind them, fireworks begin to light the night sky. One, two. Three four five. Popping and cracking and showering the shrine in color. Drawing them back to the warmth of the living word below, and to the bustling crowd beginning to gather at the village center. The New Year’s celebration has begun. 

Cracks of light shimmer in the sky as they follow the crowds inwards. Sakura slips away from the group and returns with dango, handing one to Hinata, who kisses her cheek in thanks. Then she hands one to Itachi, who doesn’t but thanks her anyway and savors the treat as Kisame tucks an arm around him, a cascade of color glinting against his skin in each fiery crackle above them. In the center square, this year’s batch of specially selected Academy students perform katas to entertain the crowd. Sasuke produces a pair of sparklers from his pouch and hands them to Boruto and Sarada, who exclaim in delight. 

Sarada excitedly shows her father how she’s been practicing her Katon jutsu. Her flames are tiny, but they’re enough to melt away half of her sparkler, which is remarkable at her age. Sasuke touches her forehead and gives her another, congratulating her. Boruto tugs her sleeve and demands she light his too. 

Itachi watches and leans against Kisame’s shoulder, smiling. Warm. 

Happy. 

As fireworks sparkle overhead, all he can think in this surreal dream of a night, is that he is happy. There is no where else for him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Himawari has not been born yet.]


	10. The Complications of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarada's uncle is pretty awesome. Her friends are also pretty awesome. Most of the time.

To Sarada’s dismay, Chocho has taken to waiting with her after school on Wednesdays. This would not usually be a problem. Chocho is her best friend. They can play cards and talk about the idiots in their class, and she never minds Sarada complaining about Boruto’s latest prank. Sometimes she even helps get him back. 

Which is good, because next time Boruto makes Mama Hinata come down and pick him up from detention, Sarada is going to pin his ear to a tree with her kunai, no matter that her mother says that she shouldn’t.

Unless she means it. 

Waiting with Chocho isn’t usually an issue. Usually Sarada wouldn’t even wait; they’re old enough they can walk home on their own, and sometimes they even stop at a café for a snack on the way. Chocho’s always up for a snack, and Sarada gets enough allowance for it now and then. The problem is Wednesdays are special. 

Wednesdays are the days Sarada’s uncle comes to pick her up from school. 

Uncle Neji comes to visit the house often enough and always has time to help her study, or play with Himawari, or coach Boruto on the newest Gentle Palm move his mom has showed him. He’s often on assignment though, so his visits are inconsistent. Unlike him, Uncle Itachi has a routine. It’s a routine just for her, and it makes her feel special that he does that. He visits the house too, when he can. Running a massive, multi-national investigative team keeps him very busy, so his visits can be infrequent.

But he always makes time for her on Wednesdays. 

Sometimes Sarada thinks that it might be because he feels guilty. Sarada’s father works for him, and because of that he is rarely around. Uncle Itachi often brings the whole family news of her father, and quiet apologies on his behalf. 

Sarada knows that her father does important work for the village, and for the world. She can accept that being a shinobi means that he has to put that work before his family. She can accept that someday she might be in the same position.

She quietly adores her uncle’s attempts to make up for that separation. It isn’t the same as having her father home, but having her uncle pick her up from school every week is something special in itself.

The problem is Chocho has decided to start noticing that men in general, and Sarada’s uncle in particular, are attractive in a way Sarada understands but has not yet really come to care about yet. Sarada cannot say she agrees. Equally, she cannot deny that her own uncle is, indeed, a very pretty man. He is also her uncle.

So the day that Chocho first comments, biting into a chip, “Hey Sarada, your uncle’s hot,” Sarada about steams her own head in the heat of embarrassment.

Now, every Wednesday, she cannot escape the inevitable puddle of dread she feels herself sinking into as she waits for her uncle to arrive. Chocho has no shame in her admiration. She has basically no shame at all. So Sarada knows her uncle is going to hear what she is saying about him.

Again.

“Good afternoon Chocho.” Uncle Itachi has the patience of a saint.

When Chocho responds with a slow “Heeey,” and waves at him, her eyes lingering just a little too long, Sarada jumps up and grabs her uncle’s hand. 

“Bye Chocho!” and drags her uncle away. 

This has been their routine for the past three weeks. 

Just out of sight of the Academy, Itachi’s quiet chuckle breaks through Sarada’s embarrassment. She looks up at him, sees the soft sliver of a smile on his lips and the amused glint in his dark eyes and admits okay, yes, she has a very handsome uncle. She can understand why her best friend would think he’s cute. 

Still her uncle. 

Itachi pokes her forehead lightly. Sarada fails to resist the immediate instinct to cover the spot with her hand. “You do realize your friend’s crush doesn’t bother me.” Sarada stares at him. “She’s a child, Sarada. I find it hard to be bothered.” And she relaxes a little bit.

“Really?”

Itachi nods. “I’ve seen both your father and your uncle act much more embarrassingly towards each other than your friend does towards me. She may grow out of it eventually.”

Sarada thinks that an optimistic prospect. Chocho is notoriously stubborn. 

“Even if she doesn't, she hasn't crossed any lines that I consider uncomfortable. I believe her considerate enough to restrain herself if she does.”

Again, Sarada leans skeptical. But Chocho is her friend, and Sarada wouldn’t be friends with her if she really was the type to make people feel uncomfortable on purpose. Maybe her uncle is right then. 

Maybe her discomfort is not because her best friend is crushing on her uncle, but because that crush is making her think uncomfortable thoughts she doesn’t entirely know how to deal with. Things about what liking someone means, and how the like she has for one person might be a different kind of like than she has for another person. 

Worries that one of those likes might mean more than the other, and fears that she might lose one of those precious people, or they might hate her, just because she doesn’t like them the way they want her to. 

Or because she does. 

She doesn’t know who to talk to about this. Her father is absent most of the time, and her mother works, and even then thinking about asking her mother just makes her feel worse. She could ask Aunt Hinata, but she doesn’t know what her heart-mother is thinking sometimes. She needs a clear answer. 

But Uncle Itachi has never been anything but honest with her, even about the hard things, and he’s right here, right beside her. 

Even the day she asked her mother where her grandparents were on her dad's side.

“Uncle.... have you felt like that before?” she asks. “When you were young, did you look at people like that?” She asks because sometimes when Chocho looks at her uncle like he's a treat she wants to devour she finds herself caught in the sly intensity of Chocho’s eyes.

She finds herself thinking that Chocho is beautiful the way Chocho thinks Sarada’s uncle is, and she finds herself jealous that Chocho would only have eyes for her uncle.

She's just a girl, but she's an Uchiha too. She's pretty too right?

Her uncle's face adopts an air of thoughtful consideration. “I may not have the best answer for you,” he admits. “I have only felt attraction of that nature for two people in my life.” 

Only two? How many people could a person feel that way about, Sarada wonders? She has no frame of reference. She has barely experienced that kind of attraction at all. “You like Kisame that way.” Itachi nods. “and….” An enigmatic smile is her only response. 

“Attraction of any kind is only a part of who you are. Am I any different from who I was to you a moment ago because you know that?”

Sarada considers, then shakes her head. Then scowls.

“It's still embarrassing. She knows you're my uncle.”

“She's a young girl exploring the first steps of her sexuality. But if her behavior bothers you, perhaps you should consider why. And perhaps you should talk to her.”

That prospect is terrifying, but with her uncle's encouragement, suddenly it doesn't feel impossible. “Do you think she'd listen?”

“She is your friend.”

She should be able to trust her friend. 

Can she trust Chocho with something that scares her as much as this? Why does it scare her this much? 

A hand rests on her head. Her uncle doesn’t ruffle her hair, just rests his warm palm there. “When you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

The confidence with which he says it makes it impossible for Sarada to believe otherwise.


	11. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatake Kakashi has six months left in office as Hokage, and he is more than ready to retire. His staff, unfortunately, is not. There are only so many places he can go to avoid them.

“Kakashi, what are you doing in here?”

Hatake Kakashi, the Sixth Hokage, slips into the Director’s office at the ISIA and very quietly closes the door. It clicks, which is irritating only because it alerts the room’s only occupant to his presence, but Uchiha Itachi wasn’t likely to remain oblivious to that for long.

Ostensibly he is here to deliver a new case. That is what he told Naruto, who is currently manning the Hokage’s desk exactly as he’ll be doing six months from now when his inauguration is finally official. He’s been working as the Hokage’s personal assistant for almost two years now. Everyone knows it’s coming. 

Not everyone has come to terms with that. 

Which is why Kakashi is here delivering Itachi this scroll in person. Or perhaps he is headed to the Academy to check in with the new Headmaster. That’s what he told his secretary. Who will undoubtedly send Umino Iruka a message to expect his arrival, because she’s efficient like that. Which is why Kakashi most definitely sent Pakkun to give Iruka a heads up about it, because that is the last earful he needs to hear about later today.

Iruka would definitely give him an earful for using him as a distraction for his staff. 

It’s also possible that he’s visiting the Intelligence Division (sent a bunshin that direction), or maybe he’s speaking with the Nara clan head (Shikamaru isn’t going to care). 

The point is, he is currently out of his staff’s hair. By the time they realize he cannot be found, they will be forced to turn to the only other person in with the authority to perform in his stead. It’s for the best; they need to get used to working with Naruto just as much as Naruto needs to get used to the full rigors of a Hokage’s less glamorous work. He has nearly as much authority as Kakashi himself these days, so why not let him use it? 

So why go to the ISIA?

The answer is in the little quirk of a smile as Itachi’s very quick mind works out the reason for his presence. He doesn’t really have to ask. Kakashi has done this once or twice (several times) before, and Itachi is no fool. Nor is he ignorant of the stress a high profile position in the village can cause. 

So rather than press Kakashi further, he sets his own paperwork aside and stands from his desk. A small tea pot sits upon a table near the window. Next to it is a filled kettle that Itachi flips on. He nods Kakashi towards one of the seats as he prepares tea for them both.

Kakashi drops the scroll he has brought on Itachi’s desk and lets himself relax as he watches Itachi go about those very soothing motions. 

When Itachi was first returned to the village, on the brink of death and still a deadly criminal, Kakashi had no idea what to think about the situation. They were acquainted, of course. 

More than acquainted, they were in ANBU at the same time. Of course they knew each other. ANBU agents might take some effort to conceal their identities from those outside their own teams, but there was only one Uchiha in ANBU. Even if they hadn’t been placed on the same team, it was inevitable that two Sharingan wielding prodigies would come across each other. The unique nature of their backgrounds wouldn’t allow otherwise. 

After the Uchiha massacre, Kakashi did what he did best in such terrible circumstances. Any affection he might have had for the boy he knew, any measure of respect, and any question of loyalty he buried. Clearly he didn’t know Uchiha Itachi at all. 

Turns out, perhaps he knew Itachi better than he thought. Just, the nature of Itachi’s circumstances prevented him from realizing that.

Now as he watches Itachi he wishes, sometimes, that he’d had the will to dig deeper. To question deeper. But that is the genius of hindsight talking. Kakashi as he was then could never have done such a thing. It’s useless to feel guilty about that now. 

Itachi hands Kakashi a mug and sits himself on the chair across from him. Being Director of the ISIA suits him. That brilliant mind and those sharp eyes of his are at last able to work towards what has always been Itachi’s ultimate goal: peace. Not just for Konoha, but the world. So that no other children will be forced to fight as they did, nor die as their comrades did, nor be ordered to commit the most terrible crimes for the sake of loyalty. 

“How long do you have then?” Itachi sips his tea. 

“Ah, probably an hour. Maybe two. Depends on what comes up.” 

“I have a team expected to return at three. The rest can wait.”

“Don’t let me hold you up,” Kakashi waves his generous hospitality off. “I’m just hiding.” 

A soft chuckle answers him. Itachi is considerably more open these days. More like the child Kakashi remembers from years past, before the stress of his family’s plot and his own torn loyalties began to shut him away. “I promise Kakashi, it can actually wait. It’s been a slow month.”

That’s going to change soon. Once Kakashi resigns, no doubt some of the idiots who’ve been holding back because it’s him holding the Hokage title are going to start popping out of hiding. Naruto may already have an international reputation, but that also means the world knows what kind of experience he has. That can be a double edged sword. 

So. “How’s Sasuke doing?” Kakashi still asks after his former student. He’d rather not make it obvious to Itachi, of all people, but Sasuke’s habit of vanishing from the village for weeks on end isn’t something he’s proud of as a teacher. He hates asking Naruto that question, because Naruto’s face just crumples. Or he gets this kind of sad, kind of fond look that Kakashi isn’t prepared to deal with. 

There is a very good reason he never took another genin team. Dealing with the emotional mess that is Team 7 is already more than he can really handle. Objectively more. He can’t say he ever really ‘handled’ any part of it.

Itachi appreciates the question. And he is more likely to have both the information Kakashi wants, and to give it to Kakashi without accidently poking at points of guilt. “He’s currently off assignment actually. In the Land of Bones, last I had contact with him, working on his pet project.”

Investigating the history of Otsutsuki Kaguya, the Uchiha clan’s ultimate ancestor. Kakashi shudders. He’d really rather not hear anything about her ever again. Fighting her once was more than enough. 

Itachi smiles in sympathy. “Though he tells me what he finds, I don’t think he realizes that he and Naruto are about the only people who can contemplate her without some measure of discomfort. I can’t say I am…” He hesitates. He doesn’t like to speak of his death or the circumstances surrounding it. Not, Kakashi thinks, because remembering nearly dying bothers him, but because his brief incarceration as an Edo Tensei does. 

“...sad to have missed that part? Yeah, it wasn’t all that exciting.” 

The glint in Itachi’s eyes tells Kakashi he knows he’s lying. 

“Think there’s any chance his theories are right?”

“If they are, then you and I aren’t likely to be the ones to prevent the further catastrophe. All we can do is worry about the ones we can deal with.”

Has Itachi always been so pragmatic? 

Kakashi lingers in Itachi’s office. The first time he did this he thought it’d been uncomfortable. Intrusive, even. But Itachi doesn’t allow his presence to prevent him from doing what he needs to, nor does he show any signs of irritation at the company. Nor does he seem pressured to put on a show, as so many of Kakashi’s more recent subordinates have. The Hokage title is irritating for more than one reason that way. 

As a child, perhaps Kakashi would have seen that from him. Itachi is no longer the eager-to-please young ANBU Kakashi first met, nor so serenely cautious that he appears to have no feeling at all. It’s nice.

To have someone with whom he shares more in common that he would sometimes like to admit. 

To have someone who neither looks up to him, nor feels the need to impress him. 

To have someone who understands the stress of an impossible situation. 

Somehow, in the past seven years, they have become a strange pair of friends. 

But Kakashi cannot linger here much longer, however peaceful Itachi’s office is. He thanks Itachi for his time, and earns a small smile in return. “Thank you, Kakashi.” 

For so many things that Itachi cannot say to him. But so many things that Kakashi understands, for they are similar in their inability to put their true feelings into words. Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for being at peace with me. Thank you for giving me a purpose I can believe in. 

“Hey Itachi, when Naruto starts in, I’ll still be around to make sure it’s all working out.” 

The briefest flash of real emotion widens Itachi’s eyes. A hint of the concerns he is hiding, perhaps? Surprise that Kakashi would care? “Bring Kisame around to Torinosuke’s sometime. Guy and I’ll be there. Probably a few others.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Kakashi pats Itachi on the shoulder as he moves for the door. “You’re one of us, Itachi. I’m sure. Plus, Guy wants another match, and I think we’re all better off if they start with arm wrestling this time.” 

He leaves Itachi there knowing well enough that Itachi is staring stunned after him. He doesn’t have to look back to sense the shock in his once teammate, once enemy’s face.

Soon he’ll have a whole lot of time on his hands. Better, soon he’ll be back in the mix with the rest of his peers, using his own two hands to take care of the village. Maybe his short stint as Hokage has been good, maybe not. Maybe he’s gotten a few things accomplished that needed to be done. But there’s one more thing he can do before he’s done completely.

He failed Itachi has his superior once, even if he knows he can’t be blamed for it. He’d like to think he’s made up for it a little by giving Itachi something meaningful to do. 

But he knows what it’s like to be isolated, and he knows what it’s like to start following that dark path it leads to. He knows what it’s like to do something he can never forgive himself for, and that maybe no one should. 

So he supposes there is one more thing he can do: make sure Itachi never has to feel isolated like that again. Maybe if he’d succeeded there before, a tragedy could have been prevented. This time Kakashi means to make sure it is.


	12. Coping with Partnerships and ex-Criminals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with Itachi’s return is one thing. Dealing with the sudden presence of his partner is quite another.

Kisame arrives in Konoha for the second time in his life for one reason: a certain stubborn brat has told him the one thing that might have possibly dragged him out of retirement and back anywhere near the screwed up hell that is the shinobi villages. 

Uchiha Itachi is alive. 

The look on his face when Naruto tells him this, after one hell of a wild goose chase to find him, is enough to convince him that he has done the right thing. He has watched Itachi’s slow acceptance of his partner’s death, watched the silent, private misery in his eyes when he thinks Naruto isn’t looking. He’s determined to bring some sort of peace back to him.

He has no idea what to expect. After all, he has never known Kisame in any context other than as an enemy. A very powerful, very dedicated enemy. He witnessed Kisame’s ‘death’ himself, and no matter how hard he tries to rationalize it to Yamato, he can’t deny his own eyes. 

“He killed himself, Naruto,” Yamato tells him. “You saw him die.” 

Naruto finds himself faced with the consequences of that as he watches Itachi’s slow recovery. He remembers, because Yamato reminds him, that cold ache in his stomach as he witnessed the depth of Kisame’s dedication to his cause. As he realized there was more to that man than the monster Naruto saw him as. 

There was more to Gaara wasn’t there? Why not to Kisame then?

“I’m going to find him,” he tells Lee, who is around when he makes the decision. He’s tempted to ask Lee to come with him, since he’s familiar with Kisame’s moves, but he doesn’t. That’s just a little too close, and though Lee sympathizes, extolling his mentor’s ultimate respect for Kisame in the end, he too insists that Kisame must be dead.

Everyone is so sure. It’s just that--

Itachi is alive. Neji is alive. Yes, Naruto saw Kisame die, but if there’s a chance, then--

So he goes to Neji, because Neji can at least look at the situation logically. Naruto might not be able to do that himself, but he can trust Neji won’t be swayed by another’s opinion. Sure he wasn’t there, but Killer Bee isn’t exactly around to ask, and he really, really doesn’t feel comfortable tracking down Aoba. 

He knows what Guy will say. 

Neji is not yet recovered enough to join Naruto in his search, but he can offer advice. “It isn’t like you to second guess yourself. If you think there is some possibility he might have survived, then will it harm anything to investigate that?” Naruto really wishes that Neji could help him more. He’d be the best back-up here. 

He’s not going to ask Sasuke, because Sasuke has enough issues to deal with right now, and like hell Naruto is going to ask him to leave the village while his brother is in the hospital. 

Kakashi’s going to be pissed if he tries to do this alone though, so he asks Kiba, Lee, and Tenten. Kiba because okay yeah maybe they don’t get along great, but he can track just about anything. Tenten because Naruto can admit someone’s going to need to keep them in line, and Lee because after their earlier conversation he’s got a bet going with him that he’s right and Lee is wrong and he knows Lee will put every ounce of effort into winning that bet. 

So he’s not going to give up midway through even if they don’t find anything.

Besides, Tsunade lets him. In her words: “Fine, just get your ass back here if we call you for a real mission.” Naruto’s pretty sure she considers this an extended vacation for a few of her best ninja rather than a real mission. So Kakashi doesn’t really have any say. They’re still working out that transition; Naruto’s not totally sure who’s actually acting Hokage at the moment, but they’ll figure it out eventually. That’s fine for now. 

It takes them three weeks to find a direction. It takes two more to actually figure out where Kisame is. The whole thing is worth it when they do.

Naruto is definitely going to rub this in Yamato’s face when he gets home. 

The tiny little island Kisame has set up a house on is surrounded by way too many sharks and some serious traps. Kisame is ready for them when they get there. He might not have the Samehada anymore, but he’s still intimidating as hell. Big isn’t the issue. Pointy teeth isn’t the issue. Naruto cannot shake the memory of their first meeting. 

It’s hard not to be intimidated by someone who threatened to cut your limbs off just to make kidnaping you easier. 

Naruto has a moment to second guess the team he’s brought with him the instant they land. Kiba’s a hot head, Lee’s worse, and he kind of may have forgotten that Tenten has actually fought Kisame before and has every reason to think him a threat. Maybe she’s more level-headed than the rest of them normally, but not in this case. 

Which means Naruto has to be the voice of reason. 

Crap. 

He stops what is gearing up to be one really stupid battle with a single sentence. “Itachi’s alive.”

Kisame never seemed like the sort of person who could be thrown off his game, but that one sentence seems to all but blind-side him. 

For a moment. The next he is ready for them; Naruto sees the very moment that Kisame decides they’re lying. He has enough time to think “shit.” Right. He has to convince this man he’s not lying. He didn’t think that far ahead. 

He so did not take the right team with him for this!

So they end up ten seconds into a fight before Naruto has to pile his Kage bunshins on everyone just to hold them down long enough to explain. Rapidly, because Kisame is not appreciating about twenty 50kg-ish bodies dropping on him simultaneously, but it’s the least deadly thing Naruto can think of that might temporarily subdue him. 

“Look, just! Come with me to Konoha. I can--ack!” 

Kisame does, in fact, have a sword with him. It’s nearly as long as Samehada and he can apparently summon it. Naruto has to duck his real head away from its pretty damn sharp blade. He springs back into the beach-sand yells, “Lee will you STOP?”

Doesn’t help. Lee pops the last of the clones holding him down and launches himself at Kisame. Who laughs at him, and asks him where his mentor is as they trade a succession of blows that Naruto realizes might be a little more playful than actually serious. 

Until Kisame’s bunshin pops too. 

And a gigantic wave hits them from behind.

And oh hey look, water prisons. Naruto’s favorite. At least a shark isn’t mauling his ass this time. This is going so well!

Kisame points his sword at Naruto. “Explain, please.” 

Naruto tells him everything. Down to the littlest detail: how they found Itachi, everything Sakura’s told him about Itachi’s condition, the way Itachi’s been acting, and “look, it’d cheer him up if he knew you were alive. He’s dealt with enough shit already and I just want to help.”

Kisame appears to have absolutely no idea what to say to that. Progress, right?

“You’re asking me to walk into a hostile village with no guarantee of my safety on the chance someone I once worked with might be alive.” 

“He’s your friend, right?”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You haven’t really tried to kill us yet?”

As he did so Naruto could talk, Kisame allows enough of an air bubble into the prisons he has captured Naruto’s companions in for them to breathe. Then he breaks the bubble he has trapped Naruto in. “You realize that I cannot trust your sincerity.” 

Naruto flicks water off himself (there’s no hope), and shrugs. “I get that. Can’t promise you much, but he’s alive and he’d probably really want to see you. But he thinks you’re dead too.”

The question, ultimately, is whether Kisame truly does care enough for Itachi to take the chance that Naruto’s intentions might be honest. 

Naruto isn’t sure what makes Kisame accept: curiosity, hope, the fact that he doesn’t have anything to lose, or maybe something Naruto hasn’t grasped yet. Kisame calls it foolishness. The way he grins when he says it, behind those sharp teeth, he’s expecting a lie. 

He chooses to walk into a trap for the sake of chance. 

Naruto is there when Kisame first sees Itachi again. Getting Kisame into Konoha is a beast and a half. No one thought he was still alive, and now that he is, well, he’s still an internationally wanted criminal and probably one of the most powerful living ninja Kiri’s produced so bringing him into the village is… well.

Pretty much any former Akatsuki member could level the city, and here Naruto’s waltzing in with one of the last of them. 

Kakashi looks oddly pleased by the development. When Naruto asks him why, it’s because “Guy owes me 1000 yen.” 

Until the moment that Kisame very carefully opens the door to Itachi’s hospital room, Naruto has never thought of Kisame as gentle. Seeing him see Itachi’s sleeping face is a transformation in the parameters of his reality. 

Kisame was once a nightmare to him, a deadly and powerful figure who only wanted him dead or worse. 

He carefully picks up a chair and sets it beside Itachi’s bed, and slumps himself into it as if his world is crumbling around him and he doesn’t have the strength to withstand it. Or as if he doesn’t have the strength to withstand it rebuilding. It’s in the way he brushes a stray lock of Itachi’s hair from his face, in the way Naruto’s presence is suddenly a non-entity, that Naruto knows he was right. 

This is what Itachi needs. Maybe, even though he didn’t mean it that way, it’s what Kisame needs too. Maybe it’s a sign that things are going to get better for real. Even he’s had some doubts about that. 

Sasuke is on his way in for his regular visit as Naruto gets back down to the lobby. Naruto catches his arm and stops him. “Just got back,” he explains when Sasuke jerks his hand away and makes to snap at him. “I found him. Should probably give them a bit.” 

Something in Sasuke softens into a kaleidoscope of disbelief and wonder. “Is it safe to leave him in there?” 

“Yeah.” 

Sasuke, for once in his life, trusts Naruto’s judgement immediately. 

\------

Though he is willing to trust Naruto’s immediate judgement concerning his brother’s former partner, Sasuke does not really know what to think about Kisame. He could think a number of things. For one, he knows Itachi has lived with this man for years. Longer than Sasuke himself really remembers living with him. It’s possible that Kisame has seen more of Itachi’s life than Sasuke has. 

It makes him a little jealous. He can temporarily console himself with the illusion that there’s no way Kisame knew about Itachi’s real plans. He was just a coworker, right?

(He knows more than that, thanks Obito, because his very brief stint in Akatsuki did give him an idea about how closely the Akatsuki partners worked together. Pretty much lived out of each other’s pockets, from what Sasuke could gather. Not that Sasuke followed suit.) 

Sasuke steps in on his brother and his partner a couple times while Kisame is first in town. It’s kind of hard not to, since Itachi isn’t really healthy enough to leave the hospital for any extended period of time, and Kisame doesn’t have much else to do in what he must see as an enemy village. 

He catches Itachi napping with his head on Kisame’s shoulder. He catches them playing a game of Go. He catches Kisame reading to Itachi while Itachi’s glasses are set aside on his bedside table. 

He very rarely catches them talking, which at first he pays no real attention to. 

Then he remembers that his brother was never one to easily express himself in words, and realizes that Kisame, who is actually rather talkative when caught on his own, knows Itachi well enough to understand him without them. 

In Sasuke’s memory, Itachi has never been overtly physically affectionate. Oh Sasuke remembers hugs, occasionally, and more commonly those irritating taps to his forehead that reveal more of his brother’s feelings than he can say. He does not remember Itachi ever acting in such a way with his peers or with his colleagues. Here Sasuke is actually catching him sleeping on other people. 

Letting another person read to him, when he clearly could do it himself and should be relishing his renewed ability to. Sasuke made sure Itachi’s eyes would be functional, and he made sure Sakura checked on his plan’s success. He knows Itachi’s vision will never be perfect (some of the residual damage is deeper than just his eyes), but he isn’t near blind. Even if he uses the Mangekyo Sharingan again, so long as he has Sasuke’s eyes he shouldn’t suffer any harm. 

“Maybe he just likes listening to Kisame’s voice,” Naruto suggests. Which suggests all sorts of other and very familiar things about Itachi’s relationship with his partner.

Things Sasuke is not prepared to deal with. 

Fortunately for him, Kisame leaves eventually. Though he leaves behind a promise to return, Sasuke can go about dealing with the more immediate problem of learning to live with a brother he has hated for more than half a decade, who, it turns out, is nothing like the lies he constructed for Sasuke to believe. Pulling apart everything he knows about his brother, untangling the brother he knew from the monster he pretended to be, takes time. 

It’s hard. There are times when Sasuke can’t even bear to look at Itachi, let alone be in his presence. Sometimes it’s because he remembers everything Itachi put him through, and there is still a part of him that can’t forgive. Sometimes it’s because Itachi’s willingness to accept that infuriates him beyond measure. Sometimes it’s because when he looks at Itachi he is reminded what Konoha’s government did to his family and to the brother he loves, and he has to fight the part of him that still wants to tear them apart for it. 

It’s getting better. It will get better. Sasuke will hold Naruto to that promise for a lifetime. That is the only thing keeping the injuries of his past from consuming his heart again: the promise of a future wherein no one else will have to suffer them. 

As he gets to know his brother again, his real brother, he also learns more of Itachi’s relationship with Kisame. Because it is difficult to reconcile the genocidal persona Itachi wore with his real brother, it is similarly difficult to imagine Itachi considering anyone close to him. There are hints of the truth none-the-less. 

Itachi gets letters from Kisame now and then. He spends hours writing his responses. He doesn’t have a lot to do, mind, but he has this fond smile as he writes that Sasuke has never seen before. It isn’t the smile he reserves for Sasuke. There’s a hint of longing in it, and relief, and warmth. 

Itachi loves him. 

Sasuke isn’t sure how to deal with that. 

Especially when, four years later, Itachi returns from his first long distance mission with Kisame at his side, and it is clear that Kisame intends to stay. Holding his need to cope with his brother’s partner at bay has worked so long as Kisame isn’t around much, but it’s pretty much undeniable what they are to each other now. 

They’re lovers. Sasuke isn’t blind. Nor is he an idiot. Maybe they aren’t obvious in public, but Kisame and his brother are most definitely involved. 

Jealousy doesn’t begin to describe Sasuke’s initial reaction to that. Naruto is the one who has to keep him from jumping Kisame in an alleyway and delivering the world’s most awkward shovel talk after he finds out for sure. “You know Itachi’s happy, right?”

“He’s an ex-missing nin.” 

“So is your brother.”

“He’s killed hundreds of people. Comrades even.”

“So has your brother.” 

“He’s--” Sasuke all but howls in frustration as Naruto clamps a hand over his mouth. 

“Sasuke, if you want to go after him just because you know Itachi likes him, whatever, but let’s just be clear it’s because of you and not anything he’s done.”

Which means Sasuke has to deal with the fact that Naruto is right. He doesn’t have a reason to dislike Kisame, he just dislikes the situation. He doesn’t want to deal with his brother in a relationship with anyone, because....

Because….

...what if he loses him again. 

Sasuke doesn’t think he can handle that. 

But Itachi is his own person. He isn’t something Sasuke can lock away and hide in the crevices of his heart where no one can take him away. He isn’t a treasure or a prize or an unchanging portrait of a memory. He’s living and breathing and changing himself. Growing, just like Sasuke has. Sasuke’s never really thought of his brother as someone who might change. 

Perhaps what he needs to deal with are the illusions in his head, the cozy little boxes he’s placed his brother into so that he can handle everything between them. 

He decides to give Kisame a chance. 

Kisame, who is far more intelligent than his appearance would suggest and is equally aware he is intellectually underestimated. Kisame, who might actually be more paranoid about the leadership structure of Konoha than Sasuke is. Kisame, who is one hell of a good sparring partner when Sasuke wants to work on his swordsmanship, something pretty much none of his other companions can adequately provide. He offers tips in a polite, helpful way that doesn’t make Sasuke feel like he’s being condescended to, and lets Sasuke try out his larger sword for the sake of comparing their styles. 

Sometimes being around Kisame opens a window into his brother’s head that Sasuke might never have seen otherwise. The way he explains the nuances of some of Itachi’s actions and reactions makes it undeniably clear just how close the two of them are. Sometimes it’s easier to go to Kisame than to ask Itachi to explain himself more clearly, because Kisame always seems to know (or at least have a pretty good idea about) what’s going on in Itachi’s head. 

When Sasuke is in town, they sit around on the porch of his family’s home, watching Sarada chase after Boruto. Kisame hands Sasuke a beer and doesn’t ask Sasuke how his last mission went or really demand anything of him. He talks a bit, mostly about what’s been happening in the village or the cases he and Itachi have been dealing with. Mostly he just lets Sasuke be. 

And Sasuke gets an idea of how Itachi might have become fond of him initially. 

Once in awhile he still finds himself jealous. He has missed his opportunity to have such a close relationship with his brother and that Kisame does irks him, but for the most part he appreciates that his brother has someone he can love and rely on. 

After everything Sasuke’s done, if he can have that, then shouldn’t his brother be able to?


	13. A Physical Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi doesn’t really know why he never just cut it all off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: angst bomb. Real warning for arguably suicidal character.

At thirteen years old, Itachi wants nothing more than to cut his hair. The length of it feels like the entire weight of his guilt upon his shoulders, and it is crushing him. 

He cannot look in a mirror without seeing it, and he cannot see it without his mother’s face accusing him from behind. 

When he was a child, his father called his hair frivolous. Why would a shinobi of Itachi’s skill and power need to care for his looks? That is the mark of a shinobi with no other skills, and an Uchiha is so much more than appearance. An Uchiha is the strongest, unparalleled among shinobi. Their eyes are sign enough of their presence. 

For his father, his hair was a silent rebellion. He played his father’s puppet in other ways, but he was his own person. He would not allow his father to control him completely. 

His mother loved it. On the coldest nights, when the stress of betrayal weighed on her, she would ask him, “may I brush your hair for you,” and sometimes Itachi would let her. Sometimes, when his own torn loyalties ate at him, he would let his mother wash away his fears in a comb and the soothing hum of her voice and for just a moment be the son she thought she had.

The son that supported her completely. The son that understood her anger, who believed that the loss of her best friend justified tearing down the village and remaking it under Uchiha rule. The Senju’s power failed to protect Uzumaki Kushina and she would see it burn for that, and for daring to accuse her and her people of having a hand in it.

Itachi stares into a broken mirror in a decrepit inn with the faces of hundreds staring back at him and considers the weight of the kunai in his sleeve. He is still miles from Madara’s organization. No one there knows him. No one will know. 

_Madara will know,_ caution warns him. 

_He will know your guilt._

_He already expects it._

Itachi raises a knife to his hair. He would be less recognizable. Akatsuki is unlikely to even consider the implications. He’s a criminal; who cares what his hair looks like? Perhaps it could even be to his advantage. Symbolically cutting ties with his village and his old life. 

_I love your hair Itachi. Don’t listen to your father. It’s just like mine._

_Hey, you know I can always find you, even behind that mask right?_ A soft tug. _Shisui please don’t._ Laughter.

_Sasuke please don’t pull. But I’m scared, brother._

The kunai thumps against the floor. Itachi falls to his knees, sobbing. His heart torn apart by his guilt, by his memories, by their weight ruining him. 

He can’t do it. 

He’s done so much already. He can’t… he just….

He can’t. 

He tries three more times before he reaches Madara’s location, and each end the same. He can’t do it. Instead he stops looking at mirrors. The weight alone is painful enough, but at least he cannot see their eyes in his reflection if he never looks. He isn’t running from them. He sees them in his nightmares often enough. 

By the time he reaches Akatsuki he has resolved to cast his guilt aside for the sake of his new mission. The first night he spends in Amegakure under Nagato’s suspicious and watchful eye, he fights not to break in the presence of another person. He has been alone for days, and thus he has had the luxury of allowing his masks to fall. 

Again he contemplates cutting his hair, just to be done with it. Madara isn’t here. He cannot accuse Itachi of weaknesses he cannot afford while he is surrounded by ninja all too ready to kill him for the slightest hint of hostility.

It does seem, however, that Madara has been here, for Itachi’s reputation proceeds him. Itachi cannot think word of his family’s murder would have reached this far this quickly without help, but perhaps he underestimates his family’s fame. Suspicious though they are, neither Nagato nor Konan question his ability, nor the asset he might be for them. They don’t test him. 

It is because they don’t that Itachi finally confronts the full weight of his actions. 

A thirteen year old boy has slaughtered one of the most powerful shinobi clans in history. 

One boy. 

Him. 

In one night. 

The small apartment he stays in that first night has two mirrors. Too many mirrors. Too many images of the bloody faces of his victims screaming. Of his father’s terrible forgiveness. Of his mother’s terrible acceptance.

Of his brother’s cries. 

Itachi finds the farthest place he can from both of them and huddles himself in it. Sasuke. Is he alright? Was he found safe? Will Itachi’s lies be enough to protect him? He must be so alone. In so much pain. What is this guilt Itachi feels compared to his brother’s pain? This is nothing. He deserves this. For what he has done, he deserves to….

….no. 

Not yet. He cannot let his family’s sacrifice mean nothing. 

_Protect the village, and the Uchiha name._

_Shisui, what would you have done? Why aren’t you here? I can’t do this alone. Look what I have done alone. Without you I am lost._

All he has left is to ensure that his brother survives. No, to make sure that his brother can survive anything, whatever the cost. The last innocent Uchiha. Sasuke is Itachi’s last chance to fulfil his promise. He must survive. His sweet little brother, if rage and hatred can save his life, then Itachi will stoke those fires into infinite, undying flames. He may not see his brother again until the day Sasuke finds him to kill him, but….

Ah. He cannot cut his hair. That’s why. 

Itachi tugs at the tip of his ponytail and leans his cheek against the wall, dulley accepting its weight. 

Madara might know, but he is unlikely to care. Akatsuki won’t know, not unless he makes some other mistake. Any Konoha shinobi will think he is either trying to disguise himself or that he has cut his ties completely. 

Sasuke will know. 

Itachi cannot afford to allow Sasuke to question his anger. 

He stands and makes his way to the nearest mirror, and forces himself to stare into it. 

He forces himself to look each and every victim in the eye. He accepts the weight of their accusations and he forces himself not to cry. He can no longer afford tears. He must be the killer that he is. The sociopath of his brother’s nightmares. The heartless monster of his reputation. 

Itachi is thirteen years old when he accepts the mask of a murderer. His hair is just another piece of it. In his waking hours he casts its weight and the weight of those eyes that trail him through each reflective surface aside. He does not sway beneath them, or break. 

He can no longer dream of anything but death. He breaks a little inside every time he wakes.

He is merely human, after all. 

\--------

His mask holds together for five years. It breaks in the fiery disaster that is meeting his brother again. 

Two days after, Itachi stares into a mirror with a kunai in his hand and contemplates something he hasn’t in years. Like the first time, he barely hesitates. The weight of it is too much. He cannot stand it. All he can see is the rage in Sasuke’s eyes that is proof his plan has worked too well, and all he can feel is the crunch of bones and the wet stain of blood that he cannot take back.

Sasuke will come for his life one day, and he must believe that Itachi is fighting him honestly. Each wound he leaves upon his baby brother reinforces the monster in his mind. It is necessary. It….

….how can he do this? 

A rough hand catches his as he moves to cut. Itachi flinches, but there is only one person it could be, and his grip is too strong, especially as drained as Itachi feels. 

“That’s very dangerous, Itachi,” Kisame warns him. For a moment Itachi thinks that Kisame believes he intends to cut more than his hair. His crumbling mask reveals his surprise as Kisame guides his hand down. 

Gentle. 

Knowing. 

Like he was two nights ago, when he helped Itachi piece the shattered remnants of his mask back together without accusation. When he spoke of his own past as an olive branch between them that Itachi is not yet completely ready to accept.

Kisame should have killed him that night. Itachi’s betrayal was clear, wasn’t it? His recklessness was their mission’s failure, and Kisame certainly isn’t the type to appreciate hidden motives. So why? 

“We make contact in two hours. The others will notice.” 

Itachi rubs his wrist as Kisame releases it. He doesn’t know what to think. 

\------

For two years, Itachi has believed the constant edge of exhaustion he feels is merely the consequence of keeping up with a man of Kisame’s incredible stamina. He pays it no mind, because he cannot afford to. Kisame is thankfully observant, and usually willing to spare Itachi when his chakra is dangerously depleted, but Itachi loathes the idea of being the one who holds them back. 

Six months after he meets his brother again, after the strange truce he and Kisame share becomes clearly more than a momentary lapse on both their parts, Itachi feels a tickle in his throat and resigns himself to a few days of unnecessary coughing.

It lasts longer than a few days. That in itself is not unusual. Itachi has never been a picture of health, though he vaguely remembers a time in his youth where he didn’t feel so tired. A life on the road made of constant battles isn’t precisely restful. 

They have been given orders to capture the Jinchuuriki of the Three Tails. Kisame is all but beside himself, for this one, Itachi knows, is personal. Itachi suspects that Nagato knows exactly who Yagura is and what his relationship has been to Kisame in the past. This is some sort of twisted gift, letting Kisame be the one to face him. 

This is the man who made Kiri the Land of Bloody Mist. Letting one of his victims destroy him is poetic in a way that Itachi can appreciate. After all, isn’t he doing the same thing? 

The battle is a nightmare. Jinchuuriki aside, this is the Mizukage they are facing. Luring him out of Kirigakure is difficult enough, but he has excellent control over the beast inside him. Itachi’s eyes burn like they never have before as he summons Susanoo to defend them.

His entire body feels like it is burning. His skin feels like it is scalding off. The chakra wrapping Susanoo’s imperfect form stings like thousands of cuts tearing him apart. Tearing his heart apart. 

Their victory does not come easily. Others will be following. The death of a Kage cannot go unanswered and the answer will be swift. As Kisame heaves the Mizukage up, Itachi turns with him to flee. 

His legs give out very suddenly. He can’t feel them. His nerves sing with pain. His right arm tingles like it has been frozen. For an instant he cannot breathe, and then the next he feels his lungs burning. 

His throat burning. 

He cannot stop coughing. Something wet runs over his lip, sprays across his hand. Blood. Fear grips him desperately, for his hands are covered in blood that is not their enemy’s. He can barely move enough to try and wipe it away before….

Kisame pulls him up and heaves him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Itachi tries to protest, but he can’t find his voice. His vision is growing hazy anyway. 

He wakes sometime later in a run-down clinic. The doctor who checks him over lost his license three years ago, but there aren’t many options for people like them. They’re too far from Amegakure to take advantage of the few medical ninja there. 

Itachi knows the moment he wakes that something is horribly wrong with him. The doctor confirms his fears. “How long have you felt fatigued?”

Years, Itachi realizes. But that was the Sharingan, wasn’t it? Itachi has never had enough chakra to fully support it. He has already begun to see the other effects of using the Mangekyo. His eyes are bad enough that he can’t read anything without glasses anymore. 

“I’m sorry to tell you sir, but what you have is killing you. It’s nothing I’ve seen before, but I’d say if you keep up your current lifestyle, you’ve got less than a year to live.” 

Less than a year. No. Sasuke isn’t ready yet.

When Kisame comes to pick him up, he tells his partner as much. “I cannot afford to die yet.” 

Kisame asks him why, silently, and that is the end of the secrets between them. Itachi cannot do this on his own anymore, not with this new complication. Not if he intends to see his plans through. Kisame may not need to know the whole truth. Itachi keeps Shisui, and Madara’s assistance, and his own guilt to himself, but he allows Kisame to know he was ordered to kill his clan. 

After six years together, he knows that Kisame understands. Had Itachi the opportunity to tear Danzo apart the way Kisame has the Mizukage, Itachi isn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t take it. 

If it wouldn’t mean danger for the village.

Itachi’s hair is matted with blood and tangled so badly he cannot tease the knots out with his fingers. Even after he washes it, it remains impossible. 

“If you would like, I can brush it out for you.” It is a surprisingly kind offer. Itachi hesitates, and thinks he should just cut it off. Is there a point in keeping it long now? Sasuke’s rage will not be swayed by something so simple anymore. After six years, is there any point in playing pretend?

Itachi catches his blurry figure in a mirror and imagines his mother smiling at him, a comb in her hand as she smooths his hair back for him. His breath catches. 

He doesn’t deserve to keep something in memory of her, but he wants to. He can allow himself this much, can’t he? He is dying. 

In a moment of weakness, Itachi tells Kisame, “please.” 

\-----

Itachi does not contemplate cutting his hair before his battle with his brother. 

At this point he has come so far that the weight of it upon his shoulders is nothing compared to what he faces ahead. He knows he will die today. Even if he were to allow himself to live, his body cannot continue as it is. It is failing him, as his eyes nearly have already. He has just enough strength left to make a convincing show against his brother. 

If Sasuke cannot beat him in this state, then all Itachi’s plans have failed anyway. 

He cannot let Sasuke know just how weak he is. So despite the frivolity, he asks Kisame, “could you brush my hair?”

Kisame indulges him. He too knows what today means. He knows he can do nothing to stop it. In a moment of weakness, as Itachi enjoys the soothing feel of Kisame’s hands in his hair, he wishes there was something he could tell his partner, something he could do, to relieve his helplessness. 

It is a luxury neither of them can afford. 

Itachi can no longer quite see himself in the mirror, but his mind conjures his mother’s hands in his hair in Kisame’s place. It conjures the faces of those he has killed. Their stares no longer accuse him. They wait. 

They know. 

_You will be avenged today._

Itachi imagines Shisui in the corner, just behind his father’s shoulder. _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Shisui. This is all I can do._

He doesn’t allow the tears that threaten him to fall. 

Kisame leaves him in the mausoleum, a promise that Itachi knows he will fulfil on his lips. Shadows crowd Itachi as his last connection to the living world departs. He whispered “thank you,” to him, as he left. He wants to say so much more. _I’m sorry Kisame. This isn’t your battle. Please be safe._

How is it that he has come to trust a man who threatened to kill him at their first meeting, an enemy ninja with as much blood on his hands as Itachi has. 

A man with whom he shares more in common than Kisame realizes.

There is no mirror in this mausoleum. It wouldn’t matter if there was, for Itachi could barely see it anyway. Instead the souls of his dead victims encircle him, wait for him. Guilt that Itachi has not allowed himself in seven years feels like the weight of a world crashing in on him. 

He breaks. 

Alone in the dark, he does not hold back his sobs. 

_I’m afraid. Please, I’m so sorry. I wish… Sasuke please let this end. Let me be free of this! I can’t take it anymore! Please._

_I don’t want to die._

_I deserve to die._

_I can’t choose alone._

_Sasuke please._

Itachi pulls at his hair as he cries and remembers and fears the future he cannot control. He has one chance left to ensure his brother’s strength, that he has the power to defeat anything the world throws at him. To make sure he has not only the Mangekyo Sharingan on his side, but its perfect form, so he will not suffer the effects Itachi has for using it.

Footsteps echo on the stone. Closer.

Closer.

By the time Sasuke reaches his brother, Itachi’s eyes are dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....this may have been heavily inspired by a certain bit of fanart by [surfacage](http://surfacage.tumblr.com/post/137939336874/teeen-fags-surfacage-teeen-fags-i-keep-thinking). Maybe. Probably definitely. Oops.


	14. In the Eyes of Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisame finds it a relief that at least when enemies feign interest in him it’s because of his gregarious nature, not because they are underestimating him. Itachi finds himself jealous of that. Sasuke would just like to not be here.

The banes of Itachi’s existence as half of an independent team that must continuously interview in order to conduct their operations are these: 

a) he is not good at talking to people. Unless his target is of a gregarious nature, Itachi is unlikely to get a useful word out of them.   
b) there is a fair likelihood that he will be recognized, either as an Uchiha, which will immediately put anyone from a village hostile to Konoha on edge, or as himself, which will sometimes result in attempts on his life for those who don’t realize he has been removed from the bingo book. Being recognized is rarely to his advantage.   
c) he is constantly, frustratingly being underestimated by those who don’t. 

He hates, hates, hates being underestimated. Even if it more often plays to his advantage than the times he is not. Despite the inherent discomfort he must suffer, this particular incident is one of those times. 

They are on mission several hundred miles east of Lightning’s border. This particular assignment is at the Raikage’s personal (reluctant) request. He suspects the eldest son of an important clan to be involved in a smuggling operation to the north, one that violates Kumogakure’s treaties with several small coastal villages they rely on for their iron mines. The clan in question is too powerful for him to arrest and accuse this fool excuse for a shinobi without proof, thus, the ISIA’s involvement. 

It has been snowing for all of the two weeks they’ve been up here. The northern coast is much colder than Kisame appreciates, something he doesn’t have to make clear for Itachi to notice. They are lucky they’ve finally arrived in one of the local villages. Huddling together in caves and the few safe houses the Raikage was willing to divulge to them, relying on the increasingly scarce waystations, they haven’t really had a warm bed in weeks. What warm meals they have had are the result of Itachi’s now empty stash of tea and Kisame’s (equally empty) stash of capsule stews. 

(An old Kirigakure trick. Apparently food pills and protein bars just never cut it there. The capsules are not delicacies, but they’re warm, which is more than Itachi can say for his own stash of rations. Neither of them are ever particularly inclined to carry the supplies necessary to cook when they’re traveling this far.) 

To add to the complications, Itachi’s younger brother has elected to join them. 

At first Itachi can’t entirely believe his ears. “You want to--”

Sasuke is trying to look uninterested. As if he fears Itachi childish enough to deny him just because he knows Sasuke wants this. It isn’t pettiness that defines Itachi’s immediate reluctance, however, but surprise. 

Shock really. 

“Naruto’s told me about it.” He shuffles awkwardly as he asks, like a child fearing a reprimand. He won’t quite look Itachi in the eye. “I know you’ve been doing stuff like this for awhile, hunting down criminals and bringing them back. I’m....”

Curious, Itachi realizes. Because he doesn’t understand it. There are times when Itachi barely understands his brother. There are others when he can read his brother’s thoughts as if he hears them in his own head. 

“Why would ninja need to investigate criminals, rather than simply deal with them? Why isn’t the police force enough for that? Is that what you want to know?”

“Why are you so willing to work for the Kages?”

Ah. Itachi’s mouth twitches. He almost smiles. A fair question. “Kakashi knows better than to abuse my loyalty.” 

“I want to see what you do,” Sasuke says, after silence falls like a chasm between them. “You’re protecting the village, but you have the freedom to do what needs to be done. I--”

Itachi’s brother craves such independence. In the past three years he has well beyond made jounin. He takes missions and completes them as his peers do, but he is confined by that routine. Itachi sees how he chooses his missions. The farther the better, the more dangerous the better, the more isolated the better. Sasuke would run himself ragged just to prove he can handle more than anyone else. Just to prove he isn’t the traitor he nearly became. 

That he did become, and regrets. 

More than the independence, Sasuke craves trust. He craves such faith in his own loyalty as if to have it would wipe the sins of his past away. As if it would somehow prove that he is more than he believes he is. 

Sasuke has always had too little faith in his own worth. 

So, “Kisame and I are leaving in two days. The assignment will take us out of the Land of Fire for several weeks. If you are willing to follow our lead for the duration of the mission, you are welcome to join us. Though…” Itachi hesitates. 

Sasuke’s daughter is just over a year old. Naruto, Hinata, and Sakura are unlikely to leave the village during their absence, but bringing Sasuke along will mean removing him from his family for too long. The younger the child, the faster they change; Itachi fears Sasuke will miss too much if he allows him to come. 

“It will be a long mission.” Itachi hesitates to tell him not to come. He doesn’t want Sasuke to misunderstand. Sasuke is unlikely to be a hindrance on this mission. Unfortunately he is likely to take a direct refusal as evidence Itachi believes he will be rather than as the attempt to encourage him to remain with his family that it is. 

Sasuke, surprisingly, seems to understand more than Itachi anticipates. “I’ll talk to them tonight.” His family, Itachi realizes he means. It’s a relief; if he is at least willing to talk to his family before agreeing, than perhaps bringing him along will not be as much a burden for them as Itachi fears it might be. 

In the end, Sasuke’s restless spirit is something his family understands in a way that Itachi doesn’t, always. The journey north is interesting, to say the least. Itachi and Kisame have traveled together for years. They know each other’s habits, they have their own routines, they understand what each other will and will not tolerate, and they rarely have to speak out of necessity. 

Sasuke does not fall into that routine easily. He is used to his independence. When he isn’t working alone, he is used to having enough authority that his preferences are often met. He appreciates the cold about as much as Kisame does, something they inexplicably find themselves bonding over as the temperature drops.

But he does not handle following directions well at first. “Why can’t we just go in and grab him.” 

Itachi knows his brother is smart enough to understand. His question is a measure of defiance, not ignorance, and thus Itachi does not bother to explain it to him again. The angry slant of Sasuke’s eyes when Itachi meets them with his own speaks volumes between them anyway. Instead, Itachi foolishly comments, “if you were not willing to adhere to our methods, then why did you bother to come?”

Sasuke sullenly shuts his mouth. 

How much do you really want that trust? Itachi presses him silently, beneath his question. Isn’t this why they question your loyalty?

They reach the coast as a deep, deep freeze settles, and thankfully with that freeze comes their first good opportunity for a real inn. 

There is, unfortunately, only one real inn in the town they have come to. This town is, allegedly, the base of operations for their target. It is unthinkable that some of his business is not conducted through here. What Itachi desperately needs is for his brother to mind his temper long enough for them to gain some useful intelligence from the local bars and restaurants. 

Tonight they’ve found an out of the way dive of a place to start with. It caters to local fishermen currently held in port by the choppy seas. The three of them are clearly foreign, and thus clearly noticeable when they enter, but Kisame has a knack for dissipating tension that Itachi envies. 

“Unbearably cold, isn’t it,” he offers a few friendlier looking patrons near the bar a round of drinks. “I’ve no idea how you northerners manage.” Soon he’s chattering away with them as if they’ve been friends for years, hinting at interest in the lucrative northern trade these villages have access too and at the fair bit of money in it for them. 

Sasuke whistles in appreciation. “Wouldn’t’ve guessed he’d be good at that.” 

Itachi finds himself amused by the assumption. He knocks a glass against his brother’s drink. “You wouldn’t be the first to underestimate geniality as a weapon.” 

So many people underestimate Kisame for his appearance. A man who looks as he does couldn’t possibly be sociable, or polite, or charismatic. 

Itachi envies that particular bias, not because he doesn’t realize it can be frustrating for Kisame, but because given the option, he would much rather be assumed intimidating than what he usually gets. 

Given it is rather late, the harbor is iced over in an unusually cold blast of luck, and the local fishermen have little else to do tonight, it is inevitable that Itachi’s least favorite manner of being underestimated would rear its head here. 

And if he wants to maintain the friendly atmosphere for the sake of cooperation, he is going to have to let it go. 

Which is why the moment a red-faced man sways in his direction, Itachi immediately lays a hand on his brother’s arm and whispers to him, “Do not do anything foolish.” 

“Hey, don’t get too many foreign folk up here.” Itachi sips his own beverage so that he can subtly put something between himself and the man who is now much closer to him than he appreciates. 

Itachi likes physical contact with those he trusts. He does not appreciate it from strangers. 

“You’re really pretty.” This particular man has that dreamy-eyed glaze of drunkness in his eyes that Itachi detests. He can feel his brother tense beside him and shoots Sasuke a warning look. “Two a’ya even heeeeey.” 

“You don’t get many foreigners, but a few correct? We must not be that interesting.” If Itachi can manage even an iota of useful information out of this idiot then at least he won’t be suffering for nothing. It’s worth a shot. 

“Ah, yeah a few southerners sometimes. This one guy every few weeks, but you’re waaaay prettier than him. Could use those eyelashes for an ink brush.” 

“Oh, tell me about him.”

The man is drunk enough to babble. His babbling includes leaning closer and trying to drape an arm across Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi casually redirects him with the patience of long-suffering practice as he picks out what little meaningful description he can from drunken muttering. 

“I think I see a friend of yours.” Itachi casts a very subtle genjutsu over this man’s eyes once he has what he wants, pointing in the direction of the door. “Is he yours? He seems to be looking for you.” 

Whatever the man sees under that genjutsu, he flails and hastily apologizes to Itachi for needing to leave abruptly, but “hopes seeing you around again. Yer pretty.” 

Itachi checks quickly on Kisame’s progress. His partner catches his attention long enough to ask in hand-signs if Itachi needs a hand. Itachi rolls his eyes clearly enough for Kisame to see and enjoys the way Kisame shakes his head and laughs. They’ve both been through this far, far too many times for it to be an actual problem, especially when the annoyances are civilians. Itachi hardly needs a rescue. 

Though given the disgust in Sasuke’s expression, his brother might need one. Sasuke’s hand is clenched in a bone-white grip around his glass. “You just let him hit on you like that?”

“He’s a fool, Sasuke. We have actual work to do here, and I would hardly sacrifice that for the annoyance of one civilian idiot.” Such incidents are undeniably frustrating; Itachi despises that they seem to happen to him far, far more than is really fair, but his pride would never allow him to compromise the mission for such a petty reason.

Pride as he and his brother see it are very different things. Itachi sees the insult taken on his behalf in his brother’s rigid shoulders, his visible scarlet eye, and in the way he knocks back the rest of his drink with excessive haste. It is only Itachi’s warning that is keeping him from answering insult with injury. 

Thankfully Itachi’s brother has grown up a bit, and thus he doesn’t. 

“It’s never happened to you?” Itachi asks casually. Curiously, because he is well aware that the pair of them look alike. 

“I don’t spend a lot of time in places like this.” 

Itachi notes with interest that Sasuke doesn’t actually answer the question. 

When they leave for their inn more than an hour later, Itachi can at least be satisfied by the fact that Kisame has learned something of use. “It seems we should investigate the ferry that heads to the northern islands,” he reports. His fingers loop through the end of Itachi’s ponytail with appreciated familiarity. “Several fisherman who leave at exceptionally early hours have seen it coming into and leaving port before scheduled docking times.” 

Itachi savors the subtle touch. Good. More than Itachi’s dubious reliable description of their possible target. If they have a lead, then their time was worth it. 

They let Sasuke enter their room first. Kisame pauses behind the doorway to offer Itachi a kiss. “I am sorry for the nuisance.”

“It’s hardly your fault. We have what we need.” Kisame knows him well enough to accept that answer, and Itachi knows Kisame well enough to accept the unnecessary apology.

“I’m surprised your brother didn’t lop his head off.” 

Itachi chuckles, returning a second kiss. “Perhaps he can be trained.” 

Perhaps, in the future, he can be a real asset to them. Itachi has the first inkling of an idea in that moment. It is a very strange, very complicated idea, but a worthwhile one none the less. 

Sasuke craves redemption. He craves trust. He craves independence. Perhaps….

Well, they still have a mission to complete. Perhaps Itachi will have more than a mere inkling when they have followed the entire thing through.


	15. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is difficult for any person to handle. Considerable change, more so. Rather than falling victim to the fears of change, Itachi instead turns to the optimistic potential of future.

Misplaced assumptions are and always have been the bane of Itachi’s existence. He understands the human predilection for it. Assumptions are the bases upon which people make their judgements of others in the absence of fact. Those assumptions seem to perennially override logic regardless of evidence in most cases. From the perspective of instinct, a natural inclination for mistrust might not be an entirely unwarranted impulse amongst shinobi. Such assumptions are no less frustrating for Itachi’s understanding of them. 

Itachi is aware of a myriad of stereotypes others have granted him: cold, enigmatic, distant. Logical, skilled, and efficient.

Based upon suppositions gleaned from common personality traits that might follow: resistant to change. 

Which he supposes is why, when Uzumaki Naruto is named 7th Hokage, it seems every single one of his casual acquaintances up through complete strangers is offering him their condolences.

Some of the comments are playful. “‘bout to have your work cut out from you, eh?” from his local grocer. “Hang in there sir,” from the chunin manning the mission desk in Hokage tower. An awkward smile, a shrug, and a “it’ll take some getting used to, but he’ll be fine,” from his apartment manager.

Itachi hears everything from a friendly “good luck,” to “might be a good time to get out while you can.”

It’s the latter sort of comments that actually bother him. Make him consider loosening his well practiced grip on the temper he hides behind the impenetrable mask that strangers seem to see. There are very, very few things that actually frustrate him to the point of outburst. There is almost nothing that can frustrate him to the point of an uncontrolled one. 

The sheer idiocy, the depth of it amongst the villagers, the insidious culture that has built around the assumption that Naruto is still an incompetent but powerful child who will never truly measure up to his predecessors is almost enough. 

He doesn’t see it in Naruto’s friends, thankfully, or he might not be able to keep his calm. Those who work around the Hokage have had two years to adapt themselves to this inevitable change, and though not all of them have entirely come to terms with it, for most it is the fear of change that makes them hesitant, not this underlying faith in false assumptions. In the illusion of reality they have created for themselves from them. In the barrier of lies they have made for themselves against the weight of the truth.

Itachi is not afraid of Naruto’s rise to power. Rather, he is excited. A little part of him is near giddy with it; he feels it as a rush of warmth, adrenaline pumping his heart at speed as Naruto steps up to accept his new position. His acceptance speech is short. It is very him. Self-deprecating, a little funny, a little rough, but honest in a way that catches Itachi’s imagination.

It makes him want to make assumptions all his own, to paint himself the pretty illusion that Naruto’s strength, his kindness, his determination, will lead them absolutely to a brighter future. 

Itachi knows better than to give into his assumptions. He believes in Naruto’s will to make the future brighter, but none of that will come easily. He will need help. He will fail. He will stand back up and try, try, try again, because that is who he is. Itachi knows better than to believe the world has changed. Change does not happen in an instant. Peace is not bought by faith alone. There is real, hard work to be done to make that future a reality. Itachi may not even see the results of it in his lifetime, but what he can believe is this: 

Naruto will do everything in his power to make it happen. 

Itachi will support him the best that he can. At last he has a leader he can trust to work towards the peaceful existence he has always believed in. 

So he ignores the whispers and the comments and chooses to focus instead on that vital work. There is no point in bringing them to Naruto’s attention. By now Itachi has personally witnessed enough to know that his brother’s friend is absolutely aware.

Naruto teases him a little when he comes to bring in an ISIA report. “Doesn’t Yuu usually do this for you?” Naruto accepts the scroll with a grin. His face is brilliant, warm. There’s a hint of gratitude glimmering in his eyes, as he unseals the scroll with practiced precision. 

“Unfortunately Ms. Suizashi has the day off today.”

“Sure she does.” Naruto, of course, sees through Itachi’s unsubtle plot to check up on him on his first day in office. “Sasuke ask you?”

Sasuke is, of course, out of town. Itachi handed him his current mission this morning, despite knowing Naruto’s inception was today, but that is not a schism between them. Naruto understands Itachi’s brother better than Itachi himself does, and Naruto is not the sort to cover his pain in the agreeable mask of one unbothered by such conflict. Itachi appreciates that sort of honesty, but….

“He did not.” Itachi allows Naruto to glimpse his amusement in the quiet turn of a smile. 

Naruto grins, understanding glinting in his summer-blue eyes. 

Two years ago he would have said something. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” “You know I can handle it right.” “I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Itachi enjoys the presence of a Naruto who has grown. Who has matured, and who has earned his casual confidence. He may be entirely new to his position of Hokage, but he does not fear it. He has spent two years in dedicated preparation for this moment, and years before that earning the chance to prepare. Every insignificant naysayer might fear this change in regime, but Itachi witnesses the truth in a moment. 

In a cocky grin and a laugh. 

Naruto tosses him a scroll. Itachi plucks it from the air with ease. He takes his orders with ease, knowing with confidence that he can trust them. 

It is so, so good to know he can trust them. What a relief! It is as if the weight of a world’s calamity has been lifted from him. 

Kisame would call him a fool for trusting Naruto so blindly. So easily. It is so hard not to. For a moment it is a challenge to remember that even the best intentions can lead to disaster. 

But it isn’t only Naruto he trusts. He trusts the cohort of comrades Naruto has gathered around him. He trusts the mentorship this young man has trained under. 

He trusts the will of a man who would save everyone, friend and foe, from a world of lies simply because they were human, no matter the cost to himself. 

He trusts that he has Kisame to keep him from letting his trust lead him astray, because his partner will never fully trust anyone but him, no matter their intentions. He will forever have a warning in his ear, a wary comrade at his side, warning him of danger. If only he’d had that before.

(He did have that before. If only he lived long enough to keep Itachi from his foolish faith in peace.)

“This one’s pretty recent.” Naruto drags him back to reality. “There’s a report out of Amegakure. There’s been recent talk there about the 5 Nation Alliance that has some people worried. The advisors want me to send a couple ANBU to check it out, but it’s about Amegakure.” 

Naruto knows Amegakure’s story. He is one of the rare few who knows it as well as Itachi does, and respects its history. 

“I want you to handle it instead.” 

“Have the other Kages been notified?” Itachi asks. 

“Yeah. Gaara got back to me this morning. The Raikage’s already calling me a pansy-ass whimp for not just taking them out, but he gave the go ahead too. It’s just a few people spreading rumors right now, but....”

Amegakure is the Hidden Village of the small and tumultuous Land of Storms, a nation that has been overrun again and again by its larger and more powerful neighbors. Itachi appreciates the delicacy of touch implied in Naruto’s decision to hand him this case.

He appreciates, but is not sure if Naruto appreciates, the personal nature of this assignment. He, Nagato, and Konan were, for internationally wanted criminals, on relatively friendly terms.

“I will begin investigating the matter immediately.”

Itachi turns to leave.

“Hey Itachi. I know Sasuke’s not home, but we’re having a few people over tonight to celebrate,” Naruto catches him on his way out. “You and Kisame should drop by.”

Itachi smiles. “Thank you Naruto,” he says, and leaves his acceptance of the invitation an infuriating mystery for Naruto to solve in several hours time. 

He looks forward to it.


	16. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days before Sarada and Boruto enter the Academy, their parents sit them down for a talk that has been a long time coming.

“Sarada, come here. We need to talk.” 

In the scope of her short life, Sarada has rarely heard her mother speak so formally or so carefully. It immediately puts her back up, startles the wariest corners of her mind. Makes her wonder immediately if something has happened to her father. 

There are very few times Sarada’s mother has spoken so. The time Sarada best remembers is when she was old enough to understand why her father was gone so often. 

It worries her more when she sees who joins them in the living room. She expects her father. (In retrospect she didn’t have to worry for him this time.) He returned last night, just in time to congratulate her on her upcoming admission to the Academy, and read her her favorite story. It’s a story for children, but Sarada still likes it. More so because it is her father reading it to her, even though she can read it just fine herself. 

Her brother is there. Boruto is fidgeting the way he does when he thinks he’s been caught at some mischief, nervously avoiding looking at anyone, but most importantly their dad, who wears an expression more serious than Sarada can remember ever seeing on him. 

If her father were not already in the room, her fears for his health would be eating her alive. He stands next to her mother, who subtly grips his hand in hers as if she is the only lifeline he has. 

Mama Hinata is there. Little Himawari is not. She has already been put to bed. More surprisingly, so is Uncle Itachi.

And Uncle Kisame.

And Uncle Itachi looks as if he expects the world is ending.

It’s a subtle expression. Sarada isn’t even entirely sure how she reads it as such. There is something resigned in the cast of his eyes. Something sorrowful in the downturn of his lips. Something afraid in the set of his shoulders. Kisame has a subtle hand against his back, supporting him much as her mother supports her father. 

As if the world is ending around them, and those hands are the only safety. 

“There is something we need to tell you.” Uncle Itachi is the one who breaks the terrible silence. He says it with such graceful serenity, with not a stutter in his voice. Every subtle turn of his expression belies that calm he sounds as if he feels, and it makes Sarada’s nerves itch under skin. 

She wants to hit Boruto when he chirps, “What?”

Uncle Itachi seats himself on the floor with his feet tucked under him. His back is ramrod straight. “You both enter the Academy tomorrow. Before you go, there is something you need to know.” 

Sarada dreads what it is. 

Part of her knows what it is. She has asked her mother this every year for as far back as she can remember. She has asked her father this once, and upon seeing the devastation in his face, never asked again. She knows, logically, that it must relate to her uncle as well, for there is no reasonable way it could not, but she has never dared ask him. 

Perhaps she feared that he would refuse to answer her.

Perhaps she feared he would. 

Now it seems she will have her answer whether she likes it or not. 

It is her uncle who tells the story, in enough detail to override her curiosity, and with enough composure to rattle her every cell. How can he speak of this so easily, she wonders as he does so. As horror takes root in the dark recesses of her mind and forces her to imagine the images he conjures. 

The images her father once saw in unlit alleys and the blood-streaked tatami of his own home. 

Uncle Itachi spares no detail for her to fill herself. The very moment her mind questions his words an answer appears in them as if he knows exactly what she is thinking. 

She learns in one horrible night why she has never met her grandparents. Why she has never met any of a once great clan said to be among the founders of her village. She learns why her existence is so valued, the only descendant of a powerful, near extinct lineage fraught with a history of hatred and loss and conflict. 

She learns why her father, though he cares for her uncle, sometimes cannot meet his gaze. Why there are moments when he speaks of Itachi and seems lost in a world Sarada can neither see nor pull him from. 

She feels rage grow in her heart at her Uncle. How could he? How could he do this to her father? How could he steal the lives of everyone the pair of them knew and loved in an instant? For the village? What justification is that? The deaths of hundreds for the sake of thousands? Those are numbers counted by unfeeling players on a gameboard devoid of humanity, not by a son who loves his family. 

How can her father love this man, this murderer, having seen what he has done?

Itachi’s eyes read her and accept the rage within her. Though he continues speaking, offering truths she had not dared ask for, he sees through the stony mask she wears and into her most intimate heart.

His gaze accepts as he sees it, every accusation, every rejection of his actions as his due.

His punishment. 

As if he expects them.

And Sarada’s rage breaks. 

It breaks for the tragedy, for her eyes are young and kind, tempered by the determination of a mother who perseveres and stands as a pillar amongst chaos. Tempered by another mother who sees the secret pain in everyone around her and aches for its victims as if her own heart is breaking. Tempered by a father who is hope incarnate and shines as a welcoming beacon to any who would accept the hand he holds for them. 

Most of all, tempered by her father who has forgiven his greatest enemy, the architect of his sorrows, and though he will never be the same for the damage caused to him, has become more through his own will despite them. 

Boruto has more trouble with it. His rage is a vicious spark in his eyes. Sarada sees it simmering and reaches out to him. 

Places her hand over his. 

Reaches for her mother’s determination, her mama’s compassion, her dad’s hope, and her father’s forgiveness.

She holds his rage at bay, for it is hers to conquer, not his.

In the end she knows it is her task to determine her uncle’s ultimate fate: rejection, or peace. 

She chooses, in that instant, at seven years old and just a day from the Academy, peace. 

Her uncle finishes his tale alone. Alone but for Kisame beside him. Kisame looks like some guardian demon, his gaze accusing, his posture tight, his stance a curved shield hovering over Itachi as if he expects retaliation. 

He dares her to do it, with the silent promise he will defend Itachi with everything he is no matter who it might be against. 

That is what finishes Sarada’s decision. She rises to her feet, her ankles creased and numb from the rough striation of the tatami.

She goes to her father first and reaches for his hand. Smiles at him, thanks him for telling her, lets him hug her close like he never does but for the most desperate of moments, like she is the only lifeline he really has. 

Like she is an essential part of the lifeline he has, holding him to the village so he cannot fade away. 

Then she turns to her uncle. Who watches her without expression, patient as he always has been with her, from her earliest memories of climbing his shoulders and tugging his hair and listening to the precious few stories he tells her. She approaches him cautiously, for she fears he will turn away from her. 

She sees that her caution only deepens his resignation. 

He thinks she will reject him. 

Instead she hold out her hands. 

He takes them with delicate hesitance because she wishes it, not, she sees, because he expects acceptance from her. 

Sarada is not yet sure whether acceptance is what she should give. So instead, “thank you for telling me.” 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for not keeping this disaster a secret any longer. For not letting her walk into the world of shinobi without knowing the truth of her existence, of who she is and the history she represents. Thank you for being brave enough not to hide the darkest parts of their shared past from her, for she will learn these secrets in time regardless. 

She could have been broken by these secrets. 

Her uncle has given her the means to not be. He has given her truth. 

He has trusted her with the truth. 

She curls her hands around his and smiles. “Will you come teach me another kunai trick tomorrow, when school is over?” 

There are tears in the corners of Itachi’s eyes as he tells her, “yes.”


	17. The Thing About Tea Shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uchiha Itachi has a hobby.

Itachi encrypts his notes in reviews of tea shops.

Kisame has watched him do this long enough that he has some vague understanding of the pattern. Itachi organizes his notebook carefully. Mission details are encrypted in the order of menus, numbers of targets hidden in the ranking of quality, and orders in the type of establishment. Itachi’s careful handwriting details a list of places most people would never bother to think twice about, road-side shops forgotten by travelers as they pass the next corner. 

They’ve been to several more than once. Itachi has favorites, and he gets the most subtle glint of desire in his eyes when they come near one. Kisame, by the time he learned to recognize that look, had fortunately developed enough respect for Itachi not to mock him.

The quirk of pleasure, of nostalgia, and of expectation that wraps a warm buzzing energy around Itachi is unmistakable. It is one of the few habits that regularly reminds Kisame of Itachi’s true age. Itachi rarely acts like a man ten years Kisame’s younger, but in his excitement Kisame remembers the solemn child he met years ago, with eyes too haunted and a demeanor too old.

With a dangerous idealism too young for the life he lives.

There is nothing like watching that hint of childish glee to remind Kisame that the serene facade Itachi masks himself in is nothing but a lie. His partner is as passionate about the things he loves as anyone could be, be it Kisame, his family, or his very amusing hobby. 

Beneath the subtle codes in Itachi’s tea journal lie completely honest reviews of each and every house they’ve visited in the past three years, and several from Itachi’s few in Konoha. Before his near death, Itachi had seven years worth of pages now lost to the fires of his ‘final’ battle. He has not been entirely subtle in his desire to rebuild his collection. 

They are currently investigating the recent and suspicious death of one of the Earth Daimyo’s vassals, a woman charged with the governorship of three towns in this area. About a mile from where they are is a very special place. 

A place that Itachi clearly remembers, for his eyes begin quickly scanning the sides of the road as they pass the first landmark on its way. 

When Kisame first met Itachi, the child he was paired with had spent little time outside his own village except on covert missions, none of which lent themselves to exploring local attractions. He never said as much, but his tension when Kisame insisted on stopping along the roadside for tea and lunch spoke volumes. 

“You didn’t expected us to cook all our meals over a fire?” Kisame remembers teasing him. 

He remembers realizing in the minute shifts in Itachi’s expression that his partner expected just that. He remembers drawing his own conclusions from that expression.

He remembers realizing later just how close he came to the truth. 

As they climb the road, snow begins to sprinkle from the gray of the sky above. Itachi pulls his hood from his face and looks up, dark eyes watching flakes as they fall. 

Kisame makes a (mostly honest) show of shivering beneath his cloak and rubs his hands together. “What do you think of stopping to warm ourselves?” he asks. 

He watches Itachi’s posture lift. Itachi looks at him, and reads Kisame’s grin with the same easy comprehension Kisame does him. His gaze softens. The gentle quirk of smile curves his lips. “That would be appreciated.”

Years ago, Itachi would never have been so honest with him. What changes their new life has made in them, that Itachi feels comfortable voicing such a simple, unnecessary wish now?

There is special meaning to them visiting this place in particular. Kisame recognizes the mended green sign as they approach. He can see steam rising from kerosene heaters set between a pair of outdoor benches and a arrangement of seats safe beneath the tea-house’s canopy as snow blows in to hit them. An elderly woman mans the till and two younger, her granddaughters, can be seen moving between patrons with steaming cups of tea and treats. 

They have been here three times. Kisame remembers each of them with fondness.

Itachi remembers them in exacting detail. For nearly a year after they were assigned to each other Itachi never spent a day without his Sharingan active. Kisame remembers being rightly sure it was because Itachi didn’t trust him. 

He knows now that Itachi expected his death not just at Kisame’s hands, but at the hands of his own village hunting him into oblivion.

This is the very first tea shop they ever visited as a team. It is the first rural wayside rest stop Itachi patronized.

It was the beginning of a not-so-secret hobby on Itachi’s part, and an endless source of revelation on Kisame’s. Coming here that first time was Kisame’s very first opportunity to see his child-partner as anything but a nuisance.

As anything but a liar.

As someone real and human and with desires of his own. 

Itachi’s steps quicken as they approach. The grandmother recognizes them. She has a remarkable memory for a civilian. She brags that she remembers every face that returns. A second visit sticks them in her mind like a stamp on a page, and no amount of time seems to dim her memory of them.

That could be dangerous. Kisame thought, once, that they might have to kill her after their second visit. 

Upon their third she sat with them and shared a cup of tea. She told them that Mist ninja had passed seeking people of their description and felt no apparent fear for the hand Kisame placed on his sword. Kisame remembers the wicked glint in her eyes as she told them, “I have few enough patrons who return once, let alone twice. I would prefer to keep regular customers.”

She deigns to serve them herself this time. “You will have to visit again. Four is an unlucky number.” She brings them tea and Itachi’s favorite sweet. The same dango he ordered the last two times they visited, and that Kisame ordered for him the first when he insisted he wasn’t hungry. 

When he protested in his insistence that their stop was frivolous and unnecessary.

Kisame still remembers Itachi’s eyes lighting up in childish delight when he consented to eat them. He can still recall how he felt upon realizing that his partner had a wicked and very unshinobi-like sweet tooth. 

Unlike their first visit, or their second, Itachi accepts the grandmother’s presence gracefully. “We will do so,” he answers. 

The grandmother smiles and pats his cheek, and Itachi does not flinch as he once might have. 

As he certainly would have the first time. Kisame remembers teasing him about his unhidden pleasure in that first bite on the occasion of their first visit. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had dango before. Are they not common in Fire?”

Kisame rarely regrets his own bluntness. His own well-trained manner of speech most often compensates for any perceived insult or misunderstanding unless he wants his insult understood. He did not in that instance expect Itachi’s reaction; it was not the mere dismissal of his chatter he received thus far. 

He remembers Itachi putting down his stick, memory hard in his eyes, and answering politely, “I have not had the occasion to try them outside of Konoha. These are… surprisingly similar.”

Good similar, Kisame remembers realizing. Too good, and too similar. It was nostalgia crowding the dark secrets in his partner’s heart. His cryptic response was enlightening beyond what Itachi no doubt anticipated.

It was the first glimpse Kisame had of the person beneath Itachi’s carefully constructed mask of ambivalence.

It is a glimpse that echoed as they travel on. As Itachi accommodated more and more such stops and began to noticeably enjoy them without an air of irritation for the frivolity. 

By the time they returned, Itachi was an enigmatic sixteen and had two years worth of notes in his little book on the various establishments they visited across the nations. Kisame watched him write his first rest stop’s name in his careful handwriting and add comments on its fare in near poetic, loving detail. 

His partner, he thought, had a problem. 

It’s a problem that still never fails to entertain, but Kisame has long since stopped using it to tease him. Much. 

It is a problem that Kisame has learned to appreciate when it means that now they can sit in comfortable silence together and share a treat in a place that holds poignant memories for both of them. They have been through so much in each other’s company. The respite of these moments on the road are among those Kisame remembers most fondly.

He can again watch Itachi recopy his memories into his new book with the same care and detail he once did. The order of the menu is different this time. There are subtle updates that Kisame recognizes as notes on their current assignment hidden within the very honest words of pleasure Itachi expresses at his visit. 

At reliving the first opportunity he remembers after his family’s massacre where he allowed himself to be without guilt. 

Itachi has never described it as such, but Kisame knows. He knows the feeling: why should a tool bloodied with the deaths of allies be worthy of even the simplest pleasures. If only he’d known the first time. It isn’t worth guilting himself over the perfection of hindsight, but it is difficult not to be reminded, now that he cares for this man in a way his younger self could never have predicted, that there were a thousand things he could have done differently had he known the truth of Itachi’s past.

Had he known how much they shared in common. 

He had little time for guilt in the few years between learning those truths and Itachi’s battle with his brother. After, he had no will to dwell on it. He had little will to dwell on anything but his loss, the mission, and his growing suspicions of its validity. 

Now he has a new found opportunity to make up for the time lost between them. In sharing a life together, in traveling the roads free of the legal burden of their crimes, if not the spiritual ones. In having a truth and trust between them they could not afford before, and could not live without now. 

In being able to watch and take pleasure in the delight Itachi has for these hidden places and the simple secrets they offer. 

“You should write a travel log.” Kisame sips is tea. He nods to Itachi’s journal when his partner scrutinizes him. “The best rest stops in the five nations and where to find them. I can imagine someone would find use for it.” 

Itachi thoughtfully contemplates his proposal. “I would need a pen name. My own would be inconvenient.” 

He is actually considering it.

Kisame pushes him. “Sakura has been asking you to write cafe reviews for years.” 

Itachi hums a thoughtful noise. 

There is no reason not to. After all, they now have the time


	18. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the boys’ turn to babysit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm a little late for Femslash February but....

They have a dinner reservation for seven. Konoha Theater’s Snowstorm Rhapsody opens tonight. Sakura pins Naruto’s New Year’s gift into her hair and spins around.

Her date looks amazing. 

Objectively, Hinata is a beautiful woman, and tonight she looks as if she’s stepped out of a dream. Her hair is a loose waterfall of dark silk, her pristine white gloves softening her delicate fingers, a glow of subtle pink on her pale cheeks.

Sakura wants to kiss her.

Hinata recognizes her desire, and demures with a downcast flutter of soft lashes and a knowing smile. Half shy, half mischief. Beneath that protection her eyes rove over Sakura with a similar appreciation that makes Sakura tingle with pride. Makes her hold her chin up and beam with comfortable confidence. 

She knows she looks good. “Ready?”

Hinata smiles at her. “Yes.” 

Naruto meets them at the door with a hand on Himawari’s shoulder. 

“No--”

“--emergencies. Promise, Sakura.” 

“Can’t!” Himawari exclaims. “He told Uncle Shika he can’t come in tonight, right dad?”

“That’s right.” Naruto ruffles little Himawari’s hair. “I’m off for the night. Barring a full-scale mobilization, I’m not going anywhere. Sasuke too. Pretty sure ‘tachi’s got him on one of those sneaky ‘vacations,’ again.” 

Sakura laughs and kisses him on the cheek, then leans down to kiss Himawari too. “Have fun,” she tells her little girl, and lets Hinata bend down and hug their daughter. 

“Mama you look really pretty.” Himawari looks very seriously at her mother. “You and mom are supposed to have a good time. And come home very late. And…” She looks at her father. 

Who laughs and kisses Hinata’s cheek, and tells her, “do absolutely anything I would do,” with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Sasuke is leaning in the doorway behind Naruto as they leave. He waves, a fond crease around his eyes. Sakura feels an incredible flutter of warmth in her for his smile, for Naruto’s, for Himawari’s. For the thought of Boruto and Sarada.

For this amazing, impossible family she has, that isn’t perfect, but is slowly, carefully, steadily healing the injuries of their past in mutual love and respect. 

There are stumbles. 

There is Naruto’s habit of working too much, and Sasuke’s restless insecurity. There is her own ambition and her fear of falling behind, and Hinata’s fear of expressing her innermost heart. Seven years ago, Sakura hoped, prayed, wanted this to work, but she can’t say she expected it to. Four years ago, Sasuke still couldn’t stay in the village more than a week, and Naruto couldn’t stop trying to give the village too much.

Hinata couldn’t voice her frustration at being left to hold their family together with only Sakura, really, at her side.

“Sakura, we’re going to be late.”

Sakura takes Hinata’s hand and lets her lead them out into the street. Into the cool night breeze that shivers goosebumps over her bare legs as it tousles her hair.

Three years ago, Himawari, at barely two years old, woke up one morning and asked a very simple question. “Why are dad and papa never home?”

Three years ago, everything started to change, because Sakura remembers night after night awake hearing those words. Realizing that Hinata is awake as well, remembering those words. Telling Naruto those words like a gauntlet thrown at his feet and watching him process those words. 

Watching Sasuke, right there, just returned from the field, process those words. 

“Damn.” Naruto laughs. Laughs in that bitter, angry way that Sakura rarely sees, because he’s so good at hiding this kind of anger from them behind smiles and deflections. “Damn it, Sasuke, we know what it’s like. How’d we end up the worst parents here?”

Of course Sasuke would have Naruto’s answer. That’s the way they are, an inseparable mess of inconsistent and coincidental similarities meshed with a gulf of differences that somehow only finds completion when shoved together. Some simplistic fool would call them eternal and compatible opposites, but it’s so much more complicated than that. 

“We never had the best examples.” 

Sakura doesn’t know where she expects this realization between them to go.

Sasuke’s answer is not it. “I can get a little extra leave,” he tells them, looking away with an uncomfortable measure of guilt. “My brother will…”

“Your brother’s been trying to tell me this for four damn years,” Naruto suddenly exclaims. “Damn it Itachi why can’t you just--” A frustrated noise escapes him. He points at Sasuke. “You get that leave. I’ll talk to Shikamaru.” Then he looks at Sakura. “You and Hinata too. We need to talk about this.” 

They talk about it. 

It doesn’t go smoothly.

It takes work, and they make mistakes, and they get angry and frustrated and they fight. 

“Sakura, the theater’s opening a new play next week,” Hinata mentions to her, one night. “I’d like to go.” 

Sakura considers her shifts at work, Naruto’s duties as Hokage, that Sasuke’s due back in the village in three days. She remembers their talks. 

She remembers agreeing to try. That they all agreed to try. And she realizes something. 

They all need to try and be better for their kids. Be here for their kids. But they also need to try and be themselves. That’s part of making this work. They need the time for things that aren’t work, and aren’t children, and are just theirs. 

They’re very different people. There are four of them. They can make this work, but only if they work together. Only if they talk to each other. Only if they take the time to listen to each other. 

So, “I’ll go with you,” Sakura suggests. Hinata’s smile is like starlight, and in that smile Sakura remembers the beautiful young woman she fell in love with so many years ago. Who has been sister and lover and friend to her for so many years. Who has been so patient, and has taken on so much on their behalf, because her team, frankly, is a mess. Even she is, she can admit that. “Let’s get the boys to stay in.” Hinata’s eyes widen, because she clearly didn’t expect that. “Dad’s night, with the kids, while we go out.”

It becomes a thing. Once a month, because they’re still busy people with busy lives, but once every month, Hinata and Sakura plan a date for themselves. 

Sasuke and Naruto take the kids out for something that’s just theirs. 

Sasuke even makes sure he’s home the same day, just to be sure. 

So that leads Sakura here, to a beautiful little bistro that’s just opened up on Konoha’s west side, across from the prettiest woman in her life, enjoying the type of exotic foreign cuisine that would have been unthinkable to see in the Konoha of their childhood. The relative peace between the five Great Villages, held together by the stubborn wills of five peace minded Kages, has brought more with it than Sakura could have ever expected.

New foods. New electrical technology from Lightning. New advances in medicine they wouldn’t have had time for. New spices from the tiny southern islands of Water that they’d never have been able to trade with. New ores and minerals from northern Earth. New fuel sources from Wind. So many new things.

Maybe someday the Daimyo will start to realize that the peace being unwillingly forced down their throats can benefit them more than trying to vie unsuccessfully for territory with their neighbors can. At least some of the Fire Daimyo’s more conservative vassals have finally lifted their six year boycott on using Konoha shinobi. War or no, shinobi have skills that the Daimyo and his lords need beyond assassinations, and they can’t afford to train their own people to do those as well. 

Sakura is not at all sad to be leaving that kind of politicking in Naruto’s hands. She’s pretty sure if she had to do it, someone would end up with a broken face. 

Hinata presses a gentle foot against hers. She doesn’t kick, just nudges, and smiles when Sakura looks up. “Sorry,” Sakura tells her. Getting lost in her own head like that. This is their night; she’s got time for that later. 

She cuts a piece of tender meat from her plate and holds it out for Hinata, who blushes as she delicately bites it from her fork. Forks. This place uses forks. It took her a few tries to get the hang of them, but the food’s worth it. So is the shy but enticing look in Hinata’s milky eyes as she hums her approval.

Desert is this delicious whipped chocolate thing that they share, spoons and all, as Sakura falls more easily into her company’s entrancing presence. 

They hold hands as they walk down the street, pacing brightly lit food stalls open late, bars full of laughing shinobi telling wild stories from the field, and one of those new dance clubs that started opening up two years ago. Sakura briefly considers the pulse of music, the lights, and the mystery within just for the sake of her own curiosity as they pass. 

Hinata’s hand slides up her arm, fingertips trailing a shiver against her skin. “If you want to, maybe next time?” she suggests. 

Sakura flushes, because she didn’t expect Hinata to have any interest, but if she’s curious too then… “Yeah,” she agrees. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. 

Their seats are on the upper balcony of the theater, towards the side but with an easy view of the stage below. They’ve chosen them carefully so as to avoid attention. Neither of them are particularly anonymous individuals; being the Hokage’s wife and heir to the Hyuuga clan, and Konoha’s premiere medic makes them stand out in any crowd. Indeed Sakura has to shield her eyes from the flash of cameras as they enter the theater lobby, but that’s just how things are. 

No one glances twice at her hand in Hinata’s. As far as the public is concerned, well, it hasn’t been possible or even reasonable to hide the fact that the four of them live together for several years now. Some conservative ninnies tried to make a stink out of it back when Naruto was inaugurated as Hokage. Something about a lifestyle of indecency and keeping ‘such behavior’ under wraps. It took Naruto a single sentence to shut them up: “Who else are you going to chose instead?” 

It may have taken Sakura a pair of broken jaws to settle the less pleasant rumors that followed thereafter. It’s good for those idiots to see this, she thinks. To see people, ninja, making their own way together to find happiness regardless of what stupid rules society tries to place on them. Hinata, of course, tolerates all of this with the measured patience of someone used to being in the spotlight. She has been her clan’s heir as long as she’s been alive after all. 

But that doesn’t mean either of them want to deal with media attention while they enjoy their performance. Fortunately, most of Konoha’s press is, for the most part, fairly courteous about their private lives.

Snowstorm Rhapsody starts with a bang. The music is an ethereal, haunting blend of Fire’s traditional drums, flutes, and lutes and Water’s more delicate sliding string instruments, ones that Sakura doesn’t recognize but likes the tone of. The lyrics follow both of those traditions, mixing the with Lightning’s fast-paced, rhythmic poetry. The story is an ancient legend set in the far north, as befitting the performance’s title. It sucks both of them in as Hinata leans her cheek against Sakura’s shoulder and tangles their fingers together. 

It’s even better with Hinata curled comfortably at her side. 

After, Hinata kisses her cheek and whispers “Follow me,” and leads Sakura through the winding streets further and further from the center of town. Sakura follows, her heart fluttering, because this is not in their plan and that means Hinata has planned something just for her.

They reach the city’s outer wall in a matter of moments, and race to the top, heedless of fancy clothing and dress shoes. Hinata is laughing as Sakura makes it a step behind her, and whirls her around, kissing her under the starlight as the brightly lit city-scape spreads out through the trees behind them. 

Konoha is so brilliant at night that it shines brighter than the stars themselves. 

“The moon’s rising.” Hinata points just behind Hokage Rock, and the towering buildings glittering like the silver spikes of a crown above it. 

“It’s beautiful.” Sakura holds Hinata close to her, and knows she means that with all her heart.


	19. Pockets of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _These two are going to be utterly deadly when they are older._
> 
>  
> 
> In their world, even a childhood lived in peace must come to an end.

“Hey, can we go to the park?” 

Itachi feels the tug on his pant leg and closes the cabinet over his head. Boruto’s tiny fist is insistent and his eyes determined, but Itachi fears he will have to disappoint the boy, for his mother is supposed to be home in an hour and they have lunch to make and clean up. 

So he pokes Boruto’s forehead and tells him, “Not today. Maybe next time.” 

Boruto pouts with that moody little scowl he gets when he doesn’t get his way. It reminds him inexplicably of Sasuke at that age, which given Boruto’s parentage Itachi finds immensely entertaining.

“Himawari’s napping Boruto, we can’t just leave whenever,” Sarada tells him in a tone so like her mother’s Itachi smothers a smile. She has her little hands on her hips and that superior look in her eye that makes Boruto immediately back down. 

Or at least turn his scowling aside.

As Itachi arranges lunch for them, sandwiches and sliced fruit that Sarada helps him prepare, he contemplates the domestic familiarity of the situation and again wonders rather foolishly whether all of this is a dream. His brother’s house is modern, more so than the house they grew up in. It is comfortable, with cozy signs of his lovers’ presence in Hinata’s knit blankets over the couch, and Naruto’s unbreakable habit of leaving bits of clothing (socks, his jacket, sweaters) in his wake when he comes home. Itachi has folded his jacket over his desk chair and his socks are now in the laundry, but their presence remains. Sakura’s medical books line the shelves along with well worn manga and adventure novels. Family photos sit upon every surface in every combination. 

Itachi catches a glimpse of one from New Years two years ago. His brother’s contented smile stares back at him from Naruto’s side, with a three year old Sarada propped asleep on his hip in her yukata. Sakura is holding a yawning Boruto’s hand with her head on Naruto’s shoulder, and Hinata stands beside her. At first glance she looks apart from them. She stands with a measure of formality that Itachi recognizes, for he knows the pressures of being heir to one of Konoha’s oldest clans do not disappear with age and circumstance. But her eyes are on her family. Her body is turned towards them. Every subtle nuance of her posture is wrapped in them entirely.

She is not yet noticeably pregnant, but Itachi knows this is the first picture of his brother’s entire family, and a part of him enjoys it more for that. 

Kisame took that picture. There is another somewhere of the two of them, and of all of them together, and a larger one including Hinata’s cousin and his friends. The warmth of memories of peace and good company permeate this home with each image. 

So Itachi dismisses Boruto’s pouting, and the way he has lost himself back in a popular videogame he and his friends play. He needs a moment; he usually does, though not too long of one, for he has Sasuke’s easy habit of stewing in tiny details of his anger and Itachi knows better than to let him. Itachi welcomes Sarada’s assistance and shows her the easiest way to turn her knife to slice a pear thin and he keeps a careful ear out for signs of Himawari waking from her nap. It’s been less than a half hour, but she’ll no doubt be hungry when she wakes, so he makes sure to make a plate up for her as well. 

“Uncle, you gonna be here for dinner tonight?” Sarada asks him.

He hates to disappoint her much as he hated once to disappoint his brother in the same circumstance, but duty calls. At least he has the luxury of telling her why with some honesty. “One of my teams is expected home tonight.”

“Bet you’d still get home before dad does,” Boruto mutters resentfully, revealing that he isn’t as buried in his game as he pretends. 

Sarada clenches her jaw, seconds from a nasty retort that is the beginning of most of the fights between them: “At least he comes home every night.” Itachi rests a hand on her head before she can say it, stifling her understandable anger. Why should she have to tolerate her father’s absence while Boruto complains about Naruto’s? Well….

“Let’s eat.” Itachi redirects them to the table. He watches Boruto uncurl himself and plop himself down and wonders whether he should make a stop by Hokage tower on his way into work. Sarada sits properly and says her thanks, but her shoulders are slumped. 

With every family there are conflicts that even peace and the love between them cannot entirely resolve. Someday Itachi will be a part of those conflicts. The most terrifying thing he can currently imagine is the day these children realize their uncle is a murderer. That the man who has played with them, cared for them, spoiled them on occasion, is the reason they have never met their grandparents. 

That he is the reason Sasuke is so rarely home. 

He is spared that for now. “Has your father seen your new suiton jutsu yet?” 

Boruto perks up. “Yeah I showed him last night. Kisame said I was getting really good at it. He might let me try one of his shark jutsu if I get these down.” His excitement entirely washes away his mood. 

Sarada gives her uncle a look, to which he responds with only a very small smile as he resolves to stop in and insist Naruto get himself home for dinner. At six years old, Sarada is remarkably resilient. That she has never given in to the resentment she could reasonably feel for her father’s absence is remarkable. Boruto is a very different child, and if Itachi can do something to head off what could become a problem between him and his father than he sees no reason not to. 

He also may have to talk to Kisame about teaching six year olds to summon sharks. Cool, yes, but sharks, which Itachi can appreciate in Kisame’s presence and also knows better than to turn his back on, are maybe a bit much. That he is used to Kisame’s summons does not mean he is comfortable with them in the hands of a child. 

Kisame probably learned to summon sharks at that age. That would be just Itachi’s luck. He is thankful that Sarada’s elemental proclivities seem to run towards fire and earth. He can handle those himself. She isn’t likely to be summoning anything with too many teeth. 

These two are going to be utterly deadly when they are older. 

That thought stutters an uncomfortable breath though Itachi. 

When they are older. When they are ninja. Because of course they will be, that is inevitable. The Hokage’s son and the last Uchiha heir. Even little Himawari, the granddaughter of the Hyuuga’s patriarch. They will not only be ninja, but likely powerful. Likely indispensable to the village and its safety. 

It’s prosperity. 

It’s power. 

Someday these two will have blood on their hands. 

Beneath the table Itachi feels his hands go clammy and resists the urge to try and clean them on his trousers. He hides his discomfort behind the neutral warmth of an uncle babysitting his nephew and nieces. Behind a man who they do not know has seen too much death. 

Who has created too much death. 

Who is going to help these children, the day they first take a life? Who is going to hold them through their nightmares, and protect them from the demons of their guilt? Will he still have the luxury of being here, when that happens? Or will they know the truth by then, that he is more a monster than they could imagine? 

Will they still let him hold them, when the world seems to be falling down around them? 

“Uncle Itachi?”

Itachi smiles at Sarada and hides his anxiety behind it. He stores his fears away to worry over later, when he does not risk these children with their presence. This peaceful time he spends with them is fleeting; it could vanish at any time in the wrong word, the wrong rumor, the wrong action, so he puts himself aside for the sake of that. 

Sarada and Boruto will join the Academy next year, at the age of seven, as they should. No matter that both are already more skilled than most of their peers will be. No matter that either of them may even be a match for those just about to graduate. That was their parents decision. It is a decision Itachi is immensely grateful for. 

It means there is just a little more time before the terrible reality of their future sets in. Before the dangers of shinobi life are a part of theirs too. 

Before he loses them entirely. 

Later, when Hinata has come home, and Itachi has performed his personally assigned mission to kick Naruto out of his office (with Shikamaru’s thanks), he allows himself a moment to revisit his revelation at Kisame’s side. 

“They have already experienced more of a life of peace than either of us,” Kisame reminds him. “It is worthless to hide the truth from them forever. You can’t stop them from learning.” 

He’s right. Itachi hates when he is right, when he points out that their peaceful existence is still an illusion. It isn’t the lie it once was, but the life of a ninja is still fraught with dangers nonetheless. 

“Can I hope that their childhood experience will give them the will to protect it when they do?”

He didn’t anticipate this. Living in the future he helped build, for better or worse. Seeing that there is a peace, but also that there is not. That there is a price for keeping it. That the price will be blood on the hands of his brother’s children.

Kisame works his fingers through Itachi’s hair, soothing its few tangles. He lets Itachi rest against his shoulder and be weary of these truths he must acknowledge. Truth is the only real peace they have, in the end. That doesn’t make it easy to bear.

“At least,” he allows Itachi, “when they step onto a battlefield, it will be knowing that peace can exist as more than a dream.” 

Even if it isn’t perfect. Even if it must bloody a child’s hands if it is to exist. 

Itachi closes his eyes. He can hold on to that much, at least.


	20. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three people Itachi has loved too much. He considers himself lucky that two have survived, but that does not lessen the pain of losing the third.

Almost nothing remains of the Uchiha. 

That was by design. Using the memory of tragedy, Konoha’s elders buried the clan in every way imaginable. Their bodies were buried in Konoha’s cemetery, their names engraved on a memorial, their homes torn to the ground. 

Even their shrine became nothing but a memory. Were it not for Sasuke, perhaps they would have become only legend.

As Itachi recovers from his injuries, he has little time to do anything but think and listen and learn. He cannot fault the village for making his family a myth, for he was the instrument by which they did so, but he can see the changes. 

He can mark each missing presence. 

He is long past allowing guilt to eat his heart. He is a murderer, and will face whatever justice the village deems adequate for his crimes. There can never be justice that is enough for them, but he wishes….

He thinks….

When Kisame first visits Itachi, finds him and releases him from the sorrow of mourning his loss, Itachi finds within him a will to move forward again, and to approach the consequences of his actions one day at a time. He wants to see the aftermath of his orders, witness them as more than rumors he hears behind closed doors, and what little Sakura can tell him. 

(She is too young to remember it easily herself, and what she does know is skewed by Sasuke’s understandably warped perception.) 

He asks Kisame to take him to the cemetery. He is too weak to walk there easily on his own. The former 5th Hokage will chew his ear off if he makes his condition any worse. Since there are people who wish to see him well, he will do his best to accommodate their unexpected kindness, but now that the opportunity has arisen he wants, no needs, to deal with his own past himself. 

He has never had the chance.

So he visits the cemetery. Kisame kindly waits for him, as he walks through row after row, knowing that someone else must be watching, for the Hokage would be a fool not to have Itachi under careful guard at all times. 

Itachi does not bother to look for the ANBU that are likely tailing him, because even if he could spot them he would stress himself to do it. The 6th Hokage, Hatake Kakashi, knows enough of him to place his best on this task. 

Itachi ghosts his hands over gravestones. He finds the Uchiha memorial and feels a cold weight in his chest as he reads the names. 

So many names. 

So much blood. 

So much it numbs him. Each memory surfaces as a dream in his waking mind. The feel of the blade in his hand, the smell of blood, the aching cold of the night air, and the sounds of silent surprise, gasps, and screams. He has heard them, felt them, smelled them night after night for so many years that seeing their names written in stone is nothing more than a passing echo of those dreams.

He thumbs over his parents names, and gently whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t feel his fingers trembling. There is nothing to feel anymore.

So he makes himself a ghost between gravestones, walking through them, feeling the worn roughness of old stone and the slick shine of new. Categorizing them in his head as he holds his waking nightmares at bay. This one from the past year, this one from a war a decade past, this one older. 

This one. Itachi stops. 

His fingertips brush stone a little younger than the last. A little older than the most recent. He chances a glance at it as he realizes where he is standing.

The name upon that stone sets every numb nerve in him aflame. He is caught in the hypnotic grip of words carved in stone, of a memory that still to this day brings him more pain than any he has brought on himself. Now, he can feel himself trembling. Now he can feel the acute ache in his chest. Now he feels as if the world is falling out from underneath him. 

His knees give way. He has never, ever been able to bring himself to this place. Not since…

Not since….

He can handle the guilt of his clan’s death. He can carry the weight of his brother’s anger. He cannot, will not ever be able to wipe the pain of this man’s death away. 

A cracked, broken scream breaks his silence. He feels tears gathering in his eyes. 

Uchiha Shisui is written in simply carved words across this stone. In Itachi’s mind all he can see is that cursed smile. Gentle, knowing, confident, and content, as blood courses its own rivers beneath his eyes. As Itachi forces his pain aside for the sake of his dearest friend, his closest confidant, his most precious person.

Feels his hand burning with the absence of their final touch, just out of reach, and a guilt he can never overcome. 

There are three people in Itachi’s life he has ever loved beyond reason. Beyond sanity. It is the great curse of his clan, what he has been warned of since birth: control your emotions, Itachi, for they will drown you if you let them. They are too powerful. They will be the death of you and our clan.

Remember the clan must come first. 

The clan must always come first.

If you forget. If you allow yourself to fall to our clan’s curse of passion, you will sacrifice everything to defend that which has stolen your heart. 

Itachi would have done anything to save Shisui from his chosen fate. He knows that now. He has known since that night, helpless to do anything but grant his last request, that he would have wrent apart the sky to save him.

Instead he feels blood-wet fabric on his fingertips, the chill of the night air, and then nothing but the numb horror of their inescapable reality. 

He was never given the chance.

He did destroy everything to save his other precious person. His little brother. After Shisui’s death, how could he not have. Only Sasuke was left. 

He remembers thinking as Danzo pushes for retaliation, as the Hokage stresses caution, as the Elders debate his clan’s existence for their folly: I can’t lose him too.

He is so selfish. He has heard Sasuke’s praise, the pretty lie that he sacrificed the clan for the sake of the thousands who would have died in the civil war their actions would unleash. 

_But that isn’t the truth, little brother. I killed them because I could not bear to lose you too._

If killing them could have saved Shisui, he would have acted the same. His father was right, this passion in his heart, the love he felt for Shisui, that he still feels for his brother, that he has come to feel for his partner, is a curse. 

He is so, so thankful that he was not helpless to prevent Kisame’s death too. For Sasuke’s sake, the brother he loves too much, he could have survived that, but….

It would have been a colorless existence.

As it was colorless with Shisui gone from his side. 

Itachi’s trembling hands clench the grass beneath him. He seats himself before Shisui’s grave, uncaring for the dirt staining his yukata. Someone will scold him for it later. 

He leans his shoulder against Shisui’s gravestone and closes his stinging eyes, his heart seeking the familiar presence of one so long gone. He allows himself to remember his cousin’s smile. His warmth. His humor. The flick of his hands on Itachi’s hair and his laughter. His admirable strength and skill.

His loyalty. Shisui taught him what it is to be loyal in more than name only. What it is to care beyond the bonds of duty. 

_I will never, ever betray you._

What it is to have a will of fire. 

He doesn’t know how long he passes basking in memories he hasn’t allowed himself in years. 

“Itachi.” 

Kisame stands politely distant from Shisui’s grave. Itachi finds himself filled with gratitude: for his understanding, for his respect for this place, that he is there at all. “It’s growing late.” 

The sun is rising high overhead. “So it is.” 

Itachi can barely pick himself up from the ground. The cold and the hard earth have stiffened his limbs. Kisame allows him to rise alone, but removes his cloak and wraps Itachi in it when he stumbles close enough. 

As they pass another memorial, Itachi senses a lingering, familiar chakra. Ashamed at its presence, that its owner must have witnessed his grief, he allows himself to lean on Kisame as they return to the hospital.

Kakashi should not have to witness him like this. Itachi has done enough to him without moving him to something as useless as pity. 

“Would you like to come here tomorrow?” Kisame asks. Gently. Without pressure, for Itachi knows that Kisame understands. Better, perhaps, than anyone does. 

But….

Shisui would not want him to grieve. No matter that Shisui is worth grieving for. 

“No,” Itachi tells Kisame. “I have seen what I need to.” He can grieve for Shisui in his own way. At the very least he can grant Shisui the sort of mourning he would like. He can live. He can live on protecting this village and what little there is left of the Uchiha name. Between them he and his brother have dragged it deep through the mud, but there is good left in it, and Itachi intends to help his brother see it renewed.

For Shisui’s sake, for that is what he wished. Itachi could not save him, but he can grant him that. 

There might be nothing of the Uchiha left but graves and broken men, but they aren’t gone yet.


	21. An Unexpected Comaraderie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are aware of each other from their first meeting. They do not expect to become friends.

Training Field 26 is about six miles out of Konoha’s downtown, just along the southwestern wall. It’s a mess. Some time ago it was converted from an old Academy demonstration ground into an ANBU testing facility, until one wild jutsu test tore the landscape apart. No one has bothered to repair it in nearly a decade, through some combination of it remaining under a dubious state of ‘classified research territory’ and a general lack of time or reason. There are other training grounds already equipped, and Konoha’s shinobi population has seen a recent downturn.

Unfortunate though that reason may be, Itachi is grateful for the isolation. He actually remembers the incident that devastated this place. He was twelve when his team was redirected as they came in from a mission for emergency clean up, so he is well aware the space is unused. Incidentally, many of the trees that once grew here have regrown themselves. They are not as tall as their counterparts elsewhere, but they are healthy. There is enough vegetation to provide reasonable obstacles and climbing opportunities. 

More importantly, he is unlikely to be bothered. A little more than a year out of the hospital, he still prefers to do his training in secret, for he cannot trust anyone he knows with the true depth of his physical weakness and the remaining recovery he requires. Oh his brother knows, as does Sakura, from whom he still receives regular treatment, but he would not risk the rumors of his ability that would surface were he to train in a more regular setting. His reputation is amongst his only defenses against the more reckless and ill informed ninja he lives with. 

So, given his abandoned location, he does not expect to have company. 

Nor, it seems, does his company. 

The young man he finds in his space is immediately recognizable as a Hyuuga. He has the dark hair and pale eyes common to his clan, and as he moves in a precise pattern of kata he demonstrates their particular taijutsu skill. In fact Itachi finds himself mesmerized by it, for he has never seen the Hyuuga techniques performed so accurately. Had he not met this young man already, he might have mistaken him for the Hyuuga heir. His graceful economy of movement, his fluidity, is exceptional. 

The effort it requires is also incredibly apparent, in the sweat beading his brow and the slight tremors in his limbs. 

Itachi does Hyuuga Neji the courtesy of alerting him to his presence. He steps on a branch quite deliberately, and is faced with dilating silver eyes framed in translucent veins. The way Neji activates his byakugan is so smooth that Itachi aches for his own eyes. He cannot risk using them with his chakra the mess that it is but he remembers when they would come to him so easily. 

“I was unaware anyone else used this training ground.” 

Neji shifts his stance. He does not relax it, but eloquently focuses it upon Itachi. “As was I.” There is recognition in his eyes. Neji knows him, and this is not the safe confines of his brother’s home. Nor is there Naruto’s gentle encouragement to keep some peace between them. 

Itachi nods to Neji. And steps back. He has no interest in a confrontation. Though he can tell that Neji is not in his best condition, he would be a fool to antagonize a Hyuuga of his skill in his current state. He has the time to return later. 

Itachi leaves with careful caution, to ensure he is not followed home. He contemplates his options for another training location, and decides that a later return is really his only choice. None of the other training grounds are likely to be empty at any given point. It is worth the risk that the Hyuuga boy is this one’s only other visitor. He will just have to be more cautious. 

By the time Itachi returns home, he realizes where else he remembers the boy from. He remembers Kisame speaking of a Hyuuga amongst the team of Konoha shinobi he encountered more than once. 

Itachi briefly wonders if there is any connection, and considers writing to Kisame to ask. Then he remembers that Kisame very deliberately refused him his location, and feels immensely frustrated by his partner’s benevolent omission. He returns to the training ground two hours later and deals with what is left of that frustration via a series of kata and kunai jutsu he learned as a child. 

\------

Hyuuga Neji’s first interaction with Uchiha Itachi outside of the comfortable presence of his friends is a moment on the edge of a knife. He isn’t sure Itachi realizes it, but he does seem to understand immediately that he has been recognized. 

There are only four people Neji knows of who use the training ground he is hiding in. Two are ANBU Neji has encountered only rarely. One is Hatake Kakashi when he wishes to be left alone or test out particularly dangerous jutsu. The fourth is Lee, who knows where to find Neji when he needs to, and who Neji followed to this place when he realized that Lee was training long nights well beyond the bounds of sanity. 

Up until recently, Neji has never bothered to use this location himself. The branch house training grounds have most of what he needs, and there are places outside the Hyuuga compound he discovered while he was training forbidden Gentle Palm techniques he worked out from watching his cousins. Had he learned of this place when he was younger he might have found it advantageous. Now he has permission to learn and use those of the head houses’ techniques he has discovered. His uncle has little will to say no to him about such things. 

What he doesn’t have, currently, is the freedom to test the boundaries of his slowly recovering body.

It wasn’t so bad at first. His injuries were severe, deadly, nearly, but this isn’t the first time he has suffered so badly. He expects his recovery will be similar to his first near-fatal wound. Time will eat him into maddening boredom, but within a few months he will be nearly recovered. 

That is not the case. The injuries he has sustained this time are far worse. Being impaled by a god-like force of nature, apparently, is nothing like being impaled by a rogue sound ninja. Neji would have thought impalement of any sort would be relatively the same, but at a little more than a year post injury, his chakra pathways are still a mess. 

His body is still a mess. Healed he may be, but it is taking a frustrating amount of time to regain his strength. 

He suspects he is being held back, that he can, in fact, push himself harder than he has been allowed to under the careful watch of his uncle, his cousins, his clan. So he is here, where he can train himself into exhaustion without accusing eyes warning him of his foolishness. Where he can try to make an actual difference in his own strength without being held back. 

He does not expect to encounter Uchiha Itachi in the process. 

Oh, he has encountered Uchiha Itachi already. Naruto seems to have made it his personal mission to ensure that Sasuke interacts with the classmates he has betrayed, regardless of his desires. For several months Itachi was a quiet but notable presence during those evenings. Beyond that, though there is little real reason for them to interact. 

Neji hears a snap within the quiet confines of his private training ground, and he does what instinct born of training pushes him to. His byakugan activate with a thought. He turns to the threat, ready. 

It takes him a moment to recognize his company, not because Uchiha are difficult to recognize (there are only two of them, and Sasuke may look like his brother, but not so much so that Neji would mistake them for each other), but because Itachi’s chakra is. 

Neji’s first thought is that the mass of chakra he sees is a damned mess. 

His second is that he is face to face with one of the most dangerous men Konoha has ever produced. And this time he is alone. 

It is both telling and surprising, how quickly Itachi backs down from any potential conflict between them. Neji lets him walk away, baffled. 

Baffled because while he knows that Itachi has been nominally pardoned, that he is no enemy of Konoha, he expected at least some show of force. Some push back, some attempt at intimidation, something.

Some arrogance, at least, in the face of a branch member of the Hyuuga. 

Neji wonders if he expects that because he knows Itachi was once heir to Konoha’s most famous clan and that is what he associates with a clan’s heir, especially an Uchiha’s heir, or because he expects it of a former missing nin. 

He remembers his glimpse at Itachi’s chakra. Weak lines of nerve-burned power along scorched pathways. Most of it is feeding into his limbs, his heart, his nervous system, rather than shifting and waiting like Neji is used to seeing in other ninja. It’s the worst around his eyes, and his lungs. Under Neji’s byakugan Itachi looks barely a day out of traction rather than a year. 

It has been several months since Neji has seen Itachi, and he has never had the opportunity to look at him with the byakugan. He is certain Itachi should be better recovered than this. 

When he considers leaving the training ground an hour later, he hesitates, and instead hides himself in the trees, concealing his chakra as only a Hyuuga can. He has plans to wait just a little, just to see if Itachi will keep his promise to return, because he is curious. Intensely so; their encounter does not make sense to him.

Itachi returns just as Neji is ready to call his vigil quits. The training he runs himself through, for the brief amount of time Neji stays, is extremely practical and precise. It is utterly efficient, without excess, and even as weak as Itachi clearly still is, Neji has rarely seen someone move so fast so easily. 

The precision of his kunai throws are intimidating. What would he be like to encounter, Neji wonders, were he in better shape? Watching for mere minutes has told Neji more than Itachi would likely appreciate him knowing about his physical condition. Itachi pushes himself, but with extreme caution. He is clearly aware of his limitations.

Neji decides he has spied on enough of them. 

He also, for reasons beyond his understanding, decides he is curious. But that is a problem to explore tomorrow.

\-------

Itachi finds the Hyuuga boy waiting for him when returns the next day. 

He doesn’t seem to be waiting. He is practicing his katas again, but there is an awareness about him that Itachi immediately senses. He hasn’t survived years as a missing nin to miss such subtleties now.

Fortunately, Neji does not seem inclined to play games with him. Itachi appreciates that he relaxes from his stance with more fluidity than he did the day before, and that this time he introduces himself. 

“If we are going to share a training ground, it would be more efficient for both of us if we did not have to dodge around each other.” He does not hold his hand out to Itachi. Itachi wouldn’t have taken it if he had, for he knows what a Hyuuga is capable of. Instead he bows politely, but not completely formally. 

“Hyuuga Neji, correct?” Itachi asks. “You’re Hyuuga Hinata’s cousin?”

Something about saying Naruto’s friend’s name immediately runs tension down Neji’s spine. Itachi allows his expression to gentle. “Did Hinata not tell you I have been invited to eat lunch with Sakura and her on several occasions?”

“She didn’t.” 

There is a defensive edge to Neji’s tone that Itachi can respect. “I assure you I mean your cousin no harm.” 

That is all. There is no other real conversation between them. Itachi tentatively accepts Neji’s offer, because he has errands he needs to run later and he supposes given their encounter yesterday that if Neji wanted to ambush him he could have staged that easily, and he hasn’t. Still, Itachi is cautious in his exercises. He keeps a careful eye on Neji, as he knows Neji does on him, and perhaps he does not push himself as hard as he otherwise might. 

He saves just enough of his strength, just in case he needs it. There are several ninja Itachi is certain he could escape from in this village, given the need. He does not think Neji is one of them. Yet. 

\-------

“Yo, Neji.” 

Neji finds himself pulled into the Hokage’s office three days after he begins sharing a training ground with Uchiha Itachi. In retrospect, he should have seen that coming. So when Hatake Kakashi asks him for his opinion on his new not-really-training partner, Neji answers him without any particular opinion.

“He isn’t healthy, Hokage,” Neji admits. “I’ve had the chance to look at him. I would expect someone in his condition to still be under medical surveillance.” 

“He is,” Kakashi admits. 

“Then what is his medic thinking, letting him walk around like that?” 

“Concerned?” 

Neji realizes, abruptly, that he is a little. He has no idea why. He has no particular attachment to Uchiha Itachi, nor any reason to develop one. But for the fact that they have a minor truce over an isolated training space, he would never interact with him. 

“Sakura is keeping an eye on him. I suspect she has as much luck keeping him on medical rest as she does his brother.” Ah, so that’s it. Apparently Uchiha stubbornness runs in the family, is that Kakashi’s excuse? Or is it that Sakura has no reason to care about the health of the man who drove one of her teammates insane? 

Most likely it is more complicated than that. Neji rarely encounters explanations that are simple.

“I want you to keep an eye on him.” 

“What?” Keep an eye on… Kakashi can’t be serious. 

“I’ve had ANBU tailing him since he arrived in the village, but they won’t be enough to handle him as he recovers.” So despite Itachi’s supposed pardon, Kakashi still feels there is reason for caution. And apparently he thinks Neji can deal with that. When Neji hesitates, Kakashi prompts him, “Consider it your first mission back. A-class escort and surveillance.”

Neji considers because he has asked several times in the past month when he will be reassigned to missions. The Hokage has denied him each time. If this will make him reconsider…. “Why me?”

“Because you have no reason to sympathize with him.” 

“He isn’t likely to appreciate being watched.”

Kakashi laughs. “He knows he is being watched. If he is the man I think he is, he might just appreciate being watched honestly. Besides, I have some work I’d like him to do, and I need someone to make sure he doesn’t get killed while he does it. As you said, he’s in no condition yet to defend himself.” 

\-------

Itachi does not appreciate the surveillance. 

When Kakashi requested he act as an investigator on the village’s behalf, dealing with the recent upsurge in crime within the village that is the aftereffect of a war’s instability, Itachi felt, for a moment, that he might have earned his Hokage’s faith. That perhaps he could make a life unencumbered by the chains of the Konoha he left years ago, without the secrets and insidious mistrust. 

Hyuuga Neji knocks on his apartment door and informs him that he has been assigned as Itachi’s surveillance detail. In a way, Itachi can admit he does appreciate that Neji is upfront about it. Of course he is aware there have been ANBU following him for months, even if he currently lacks the chakra capacity to track them. Now, however, he feels that his Hokage’s suspicion is being thrown in his face.

His immediate reaction is anger. Defensiveness. Hurt.

He buries it quickly, because of course the Hokage would have him watched. He has every reason to. Itachi is a dangerous criminal with a violent past, and there is no reason to expect him to be mentally stable, considering his background. It will help the civilian and shinobi population to see he is being watched. Perhaps that is the goal, a publicity campaign to assure the village that Uchiha Itachi will not stab them in their sleep. 

Itachi invites Neji into his apartment, because it’s the polite thing to do, and because a part of him enjoys throwing the young jounin off his game. Neji clearly doesn’t expect hospitality, nor to be served tea in the home of his village’s enemy. 

He handles himself gracefully enough.

“Who is your partner?” Itachi asks him. This young man cannot be working alone. Kakashi is demanding (Itachi certainly remembers him being so as an ANBU captain), but he is not insane. 

“I am to monitor your investigative activities in particular,” Neji explains. “Your ANBU detail is still active.”

And then Itachi understands. And he doesn’t. This plan of Kakashi’s, it seems messy. Too messy for him. Or perhaps it is the manner in which he has introduced it that makes it seem that way. Either way, Kakashi’s intentions, assigning Neji to him, are not surveillance, not really.

It is the way Neji shifts that sells it. He isn’t obvious about it. His discomfort is professionally restrained, but Itachi has spent years relying on his ability to read the nuance of his opponent’s gestures. As a genjutsu specialist, that is nearly a requirement. So Itachi believes he understands Kakashi’s reasoning here. 

Neji is a friend of Naruto’s, but he has no connection to Itachi beyond coincidence. He has no reason to sympathize or care about Itachi’s circumstances. He is a uniquely skilled jounin more than capable of defeating Itachi in his current state, and the local population of ninja aware of Itachi’s condition will know that immediately. 

Half surveillance, half protection. Perhaps he should amend the percentage to include that bit of propaganda he suspects, and congratulate Kakashi for his nonsensical brilliance. 

Itachi, in understanding that, also understands Kakashi’s subtle gesture of trust. Neji is barely in more condition to defeat Itachi than Itachi is in any condition to try and fight him. They are, for all intents and purposes, matched in their deficiencies. And they both still require time to recover under observation. 

Does Neji realize, Itachi wonders, that Kakashi has all but put him in Itachi’s care? Certainly Kakashi must have known Itachi would realize that Neji is not at his best. No doubt his ANBU have already reported their recent truce over the sparring grounds. 

Well, Kakashi is not wrong in thinking Itachi could use some assistance. He cannot count on Naruto to intervene in every one of his investigations, or that he might have the time to. There are other plans in store for him. So he picks up a file from his desk and hands it to Neji. “There are reports of an illicit smuggling organization working out of a series of maintenance shops near the eastern wall. I intend to interview a pair of witnesses this evening.” 

“You want me to help?”

“I assume you are capable of more than playing bodyguard to Konoha’s most wanted.” 

Neji takes the file and opens it. Itachi settles in to enjoy his tea. 

\--------

Neji finds himself strangely intrigued by Itachi’s work. 

At first the situation is frustrating. Itachi is frustrating, because he is little like Neji expected him to be. The quiet man he remembers from Naruto’s regular attempts to crash Sasuke’s apartment by dragging his friends along remains quiet.

He is not, however, nearly as intimidating as his reputation suggests. Perhaps that is because Neji has not yet seen a single sign of the Sharingan in his eyes, nor felt a whisper of the powerful genjutsu Itachi is reportedly capable of. Neji has done his research. If he is to be assigned to this man, he feels he has every right to know as much about him as possible. Intelligence’s reports are most definitely intimidating. 

Chunnin at ten, ANBU a year later. Mass murderer and missing nin by thirteen. Of course Neji is privy to the circumstances surrounding the Uchiha massacre, but knowing that does not make Itachi’s successful execution of it any less frightening.

Itachi could be that, Neji thinks, were the circumstances of their peculiar relationship different. He could be terrifying, an insidious madman awaiting his chance to be free. Instead he watches Itachi conduct his investigations with methodical and efficient intelligence. More strangely, with genuine care and respect for the victims involved, and with such careful insistence on undeniable evidence for the conviction of his targets. 

Their sharing of the sparring grounds continues. Outside of his assignment Neji watches the slow progression of Itachi’s recovery and catches silent glimpses of his healing chakra pathways. 

“Sakura has never been willing to tell me definitively.” Itachi catches him at it once, and rather than being offended, asks his opinion. “I would like to know what you can see.” 

Neji reluctantly tells him, though he is certainly no medical professional, and he cannot think what he sees is that useful. Itachi thanks him anyway. 

“Neji.” Lee slams his hands down against the table, during one of his genin team’s weekly dinners. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want back up?”

“He is still in ill health.” Neji doesn’t understand why he finds himself making excuses. 

“You’re not at your best either,” Tenten reminds him. She looks concerned. Neji isn’t certain when he last saw her confident in his constitution, but he cannot find it in himself to be insulted by that. She has reasons to worry over him; he has given her plenty. 

“Come to the training ground then,” Neji invites her. Lee too. “See for yourself.” 

The day his team takes him up on that offer is the first time Neji witnesses Itachi actually angry. 

They have fallen into something of a routine. One of them, often Neji, will arrive first and claim one side of the broken, tree-filled crater, and the other will slip in after. Then a courtesy acknowledgement and back to ignoring each other’s presence. Neji is running late because of his team, and thus when he arrives Itachi is already there running through simple warm up drills. 

Neji holds Lee back from immediately rushing in as Itachi pulls a pair of kunai in an eyeblink and directs one into the other to strike a target behind a tree. His hand movements have gotten faster. Neji was impressed the first time, but now he wonders just how fast Itachi was before his injuries left him so weak. 

Tenten cannot resist a low whistle of appreciation, which Neji cannot entirely blame her for. Weapons are, after all, her area of expertise. 

That whistle, unfortunately, immediately grabs Itachi’s attention. Neji would like to say he sees the moment Itachi reaches for another weapon, but by the time his eyes adjust Itachi has already identified them and pulled his strike. 

His eyes whirl red. Neji stiffens. He activates the byakugan and sees the strain around Itachi’s eyes, and how his chakra is draining rapidly to maintain his Sharingan. “Uchiha?” he calls, hoping to break through.

Itachi’s chakra suddenly retreats. His eyes go black, but Neji can see his exhaustion written in every inch of his frame. 

“Hyuuga, I didn’t realize you intended to bring guests.” 

Itachi is angry with him. Well, perhaps not angry, but he is not pleased by the intrusion. He gathers himself and nods to Neji politely, before leaving the training grounds. He fades into the trees without even bothering to retrieve his knives. Apparently, Neji thinks, their personal truce over this area was not meant to extend to others. 

Disappointed, Neji wonders why. 

Six days later, while they are rooting out a ring of career chunin running under-the-table missions for extra cash, Itachi saves Neji’s life. Neji slips halfway through a simple strike that he has known since he was eleven. As his arm shakes with sudden tremors, he feels the bite of a blade into his side and then something shoves him aside. Fast as an eyeblink, Neji hears metal clattering to the floor and pulls himself to his feet. 

His opponent slumps, boneless. Itachi, who stands between him and Neji, doubles over coughing. Neji’s wound is shallow. He scrambles to his feet and grabs Itachi by the shoulders, easing him to the ground as he shakes himself apart with his coughs. He sees the wheels of Itachi’s Sharingan spin out from black knife-points into the tiny commas they are supposed to be, and then fade entirely into black. 

A quick scan shows that Itachi’s chakra is dangerously depleted. The four chunin they intended to arrest are on the floor, one groaning and paralyzed because Neji put him there, but the other three….

....they’re breathing, but they aren’t moving. Between his coughs, Itachi manages a wave towards the two farthest from them, “wearing off.” 

Itachi pulls himself to the wall as Neji jabs the pair of them in a few strategic chakra points. They won’t be moving by their own will for awhile. He makes to contact the Hokage’s office, unsure whether he should tell the Hokage that his pet Uchiha is coughing out his lungs. 

By the time he returns, moments later, Itachi’s coughs have ceased. Neji spares a glance for the fourth man they have captured. “He will not wake for several days.” 

“What did you do to him?” Neji asks. 

Itachi’s voice still sounds raw. “Acted recklessly.” 

“Why?”

A bitter smile curls Itachi’s lips. “Perhaps I wanted to see whether I was still capable of it.”

Neji does not buy his bullshit lies for a moment.

\--------

Itachi is willing to admit he is being petty. He should have known when he was assigned a jounin partner that there would be extended complications. Particularly, being assigned a man Neji’s age, a friend of Naruto’s, whose genin team is still close, should have made what Itachi has failed to foresee obvious. Of course Neji was going to bring his team around one of these days. Genin teams, traditionally, are amongst the closest friendships ninja make. 

Itachi understands that his own experience with them was unusual and rather unique, and he blames that in part on his age. Being paired with two shinobi five years his senior does make for a skewed perspective. 

Neji’s teammates, unfortunately, could likely kill him without trying particularly hard at the moment. Itachi does not have to recognize Lee personally to immediately identify him as Maito Guy’s favorite student, which suggests all kinds of incredibly formidable things about his taijutsu skills. Kisame is not a person who develops honest respect for his opponents easily, and Maito Guy is one of the few people in Itachi’s memory to have gone toe-to-toe with him and earned that. The young woman Neji brings with him is more of an enigma, but the scrolls she carries suggest a summoner. Summoner of what, Itachi can only imagine. It could be any variety of beasts to any weapon Itachi can think of, but if she specializes enough to carry scrolls to a sparring match he isn’t keen on confronting her at the moment. 

The worst of it is, Itachi is reluctantly growing fond of Neji’s presence, for he has few people in Konoha he can really talk to. Neji is intelligent and capable, and provides more than adequate help in his investigations. Better, he seems to have some respect for Itachi’s boundaries, one of which he manages to shatter abruptly by bringing his friends here. 

They have never discussed any real rules to their agreement. There is no law stating that Neji cannot bring his friends.

Itachi leaves because he cannot trust them, and he cannot afford a confrontation with one of them should they get the wrong idea. His anger is entirely because he believed he could trust Neji with a promise they have never made. 

Petty really is the only word for it. 

Petty enough to forget that Neji is in little better shape than Itachi is. They should have had no trouble arresting four chunin. Neji is jounin ranked. Itachi knows his own limitations. He has a pair of them captured in a mild genjutsu almost instantly as he allows Neji to take out the other pair. The genjutsu doesn’t sting the way a couple of his earlier attempts did. His eyes are beginning to adjust. Perhaps there is some hope he will recover as Tsunade has promised. Time is all that is keeping him. 

Itachi hears the hiss of a knife and turns to see Neji’s arm lock up. He sees Neji’s knee buckle and the chunini’s kunai whistle towards him. 

He just reacts. 

Recklessly. With the training of too many years on the run. With the one thing he knows will end this fight instantly without bloodshed. 

Not without cost, but without any loss of life. 

Tsukiyomi. 

The chunin drops, wrapped in an endless cycle of his own crimes, and Itachi feels his chest tighten. His breath shortens, and the feel panics him into hysterical coughs. He expects blood, expects the wet feel of it in his throat, and taste the iron in his mouth. 

Neji grabs him and lowers him to the ground. Itachi manages to direct him towards his earlier victims. The genjutsu on them are rapidly unwinding. Neji vanishes for a moment that Itachi uses to press himself up against the nearest wall. 

He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath. Just breathe, in and out, in and out. 

“What did you do to him?”

Saved your life, Itachi’s temper supplies. He answers differently. 

“Why?”

Always ‘why’ with these children. Neji is not a fool. He must have his own suspicions. Itachi is not so far gone from his criminal past. He has been on the run for nearly a decade. 

He sees a flicker of contempt in Neji’s eyes when he answers, and he finds himself grateful. Neji isn’t foolish enough to believe his lies. 

Perhaps he can let this matter go. 

“You fucking idiot!” Sakura yells at him when they get themselves to the hospital. “You know you’re chakra isn’t up to jutsu yet, let alone the Mangekyo Sharingan.” She curses something rather unpleasant about Uchiha idiots and Itachi feels vaguely offended that he is clearly being compared to his brother in that regard.

He lets Sakura fuss over him. She has been doing that since he awoke, and of any of the medical ninja who might check on him, she is the one he has come to trust. “I’m telling Kakashi you’re off duty for at least a week, and I mean bed rest. No training, no work, resting. Believe me I will be stopping by personally to make sure of it.” 

Itachi considers protesting. She is doing him the favor of not insisting he stay in the hospital, so he does not. Instead he glances at Neji, who is picking at the bandages wrapping his badly scarred torso with a similarly irritable expression on his face. 

Itachi wonders if he is allowed to have other visitors. 

No, he thinks. Not yet. He isn’t entirely ready for that yet.

\--------

Perhaps Itachi should become accustomed to following Sakura’s instructions. Within a week of his reckless use of the Mangekyo, he is, in fact, recovered adequately. He has spent the time reading through case files, categorizing them by priority and making what critical assumptions he can based on the information available. He has a plan for each, and there are connections between three of them he suspects will lead him to a single perpetrator. 

That took him a day. On day two, Sakura and Hinata drop by his apartment with dango from his favorite sweet shop and lunch from Inoya’s. On day four it is Naruto with ramen from Ichiraku’s, because of course it is, and now Itachi has been trapped into a frustrating promise to call Naruto in when he makes his next arrest.

He is hopeful he won’t need that help. Naruto is back on the mission circuit now, and Kakashi is working out ways to integrate him into the inner workings of Hokage Tower, so he has less time than he seems to think he does. The last thing Itachi needs is to be the one accidently encouraging Naruto to try and be fifty different places at once.

Even if he is capable of it, that is a bad precedent to set. 

Sasuke arrives home on day two and comes by on both days three and six. He tries to make a show of not fussing, but Itachi can see right through his bored mask, and he allows Sasuke his worry. If it will do his brother some good to see Itachi is taking Sakura’s orders seriously, then so be it. He can live with a week of boredom for that. 

“You used the Mangekyo….” Sasuke hesitates. “Your eyes?”

He would want to know, wouldn’t he. “Unchanged.” Indeed Sasuke is notably relieved by Itachi’s answer. A personal victory, perhaps. Indeed, though his chakra is dangerously spent, Itachi does not feel the other effects he is used to from using tsukiyomi. His eyes didn’t bleed. His vision remains as it was. He will have to be cautious, because he must clearly restrain himself from using it recklessly still, but if his brother’s eyes have indeed negated the Mangekyo’s degenerative effects, then there are thousands of possibilities available to him.

Even possibilities Itachi never would have considered before. 

Itachi’s warden returns to him as soon as he is capable of returning to work. Neji’s attitude has shifted from noticeably wary to a strange acceptance that Itachi is not entirely sure how to deal with. 

They work well together. That he can think about. Neji is stubborn, efficient, practical, everything Itachi could ask for in a partner. He is no Kisame, but Itachi can spare him his inevitable bias for his work ethic. They work together for nearly a year, until Neji’s recovery inevitably reaches its end.

Neji does Itachi the courtesy of informing him personally. It is a gesture that even after a year, Itachi does not expect.

He is dressed in full jounin field gear when he arrives, his hitai-ate securely hiding the curse mark Itachi has caught a glimpse of twice. Itachi has contemplated what he would have done in Neji’s situation. As Neji has, of course Itachi has looked into his part-time protector’s past. There is something incredibly frustrating about knowing the Hyuuga are at least as troubled a clan as the Uchiha were, and yet have faced none of the same stigma. Perhaps those are Itachi’s personal biases speaking though. 

“I’ve been assigned a three week field mission,” Neji tells him. Itachi invites him in for tea, much as he did the first day he arrived here. “I suspect I will not be following you further.”

No, if Neji has been cleared for field missions, then Itachi suspects he won’t see this young man again for some time. Konoha has few enough jounin. They can’t afford to waste him. So, because he has no real choice in the matter, Itachi accepts and appreciates that Neji has come to him about it. There was no real need for him to do so. “Thank you, for your assistance.” 

This time Itachi holds a hand out to Neji, and Neji hesitates, but accepts it. 

“Perhaps when I return, you’ll be at the training ground?”

Itachi smiles at the unsubtle request. “I most likely will.”

\-------

By the time Neji returns from his first few missions and has the downtime to even contemplate making it out to Field 26, rumors are already spreading around downtown Konoha.

He hears the first concrete bit of them from Lee. “Did you hear, Uchiha caught a pair of Grass spies. It’s all over the news, public and everything! The Hokage’s holding a joint session with the other Kages right now.”

It takes a moment for Neji to realize that Lee doesn’t mean Sasuke, but his older brother. Publicly revealing spies from another village? Lee isn’t an idiot, by any means, but Neji wonders if he realizes the full international implications of that. What has Itachi been doing since he left, to get himself tangled in international politics? This could….

This could start a war. 

Is Uchiha Itachi alright? 

Neji finds his answers when he encounters his wayward former partner in the Hokage Tower’s lobby. He looks healthy enough, no more out of shape than he has for the past year. He is dressed in a simple kimono and has a half-drunk cup of tea in front of him as he flips the dogeared pages of the book he is reading.

“Uchiha?”

He looks up. A soft smile curves his lips. “Hyuuga. I assume you’ve heard the rumors.” 

“I assumed you were still catching petty criminals, not foreign shinobi spies.” 

“Depending on circumstance, they may as well be one and the same.” Itachi presses a bookmark into his book and considers Neji seriously. His dark eyes search Neji’s expression like he is picking it apart and analyzing each movement, each set of muscle, each tiny detail. “I am fine, Neji.” 

Neji, for once, actually believes he is telling the truth. “Will you be at Field 26 later?” 

Itachi considers. “Perhaps. Depending on the Kages’ discretion.”

Perhaps Neji will be able to confirm whether he is being honest there.

\--------

In two years, and longer, Itachi has never truly itched for a confrontation. There is something about watching Neji’s kata that makes him want to try. 

Perhaps it is recklessness. Perhaps it is that he feels better than he has in years, now, even if his ability to use ninjutsu is still heavily limited by his chakra. He has considered the merits of a sparring partner more than once in the past few months. Of course his own training is progressing, but he can only measure that progress so well on his own.

He cannot ask his brother. That would be an unmitigated disaster. Itachi moved out of Sasuke’s home for the sake of keeping some peace between them. Asking either of them to consider doing violence against each other would be a far worse trigger. Frankly, Itachi doesn’t entirely think himself capable of raising his hand against his brother again, even in practice. He has too many memories of the consequences of his own actions to contemplate it.

He has considered asking Naruto, but that would be equally unwise. He is willing to acquiesce to Naruto’s request that he be used to test what genjutsu Itachi is currently capable of, but that is for his sake, and even that makes Itachi vaguely uncomfortable regardless of the fact that Naruto is getting better at breaking them. 

Sakura is out of the question. Her physical strength is not something Itachi would choose to face head on on his best day, let alone when his body is still weakened. She has incredible control, yes, but it wouldn’t be a reasonable test of either of their skills. In point of fact, Kisame would make a much better sparring partner for her, as he could challenge her process. Equally, Hinata is out of the question because no matter her skill, she is reliant on her chakra control, and Itachi cannot afford to have his chakra disrupted if she misses. 

Actually maybe he should ask her someday. She doesn’t quite have her cousin’s speed, but she might prove an interesting match. He hasn’t actually observed her in training much at all, so he has no frame of reference for how precise her control is. 

He knows how precise Neji’s is, which is why he is foolishly contemplating this reckless course. Neji is fast enough to be a challenge even without specialized techniques. He has the control to keep their match from going too far. 

He has also been watching Itachi’s own practices for nearly a week. 

So as Itachi finishes running through his warm ups, he pauses to redirect Neji’s attention.

For the most part when they are on the training field, they have a silent agreement to ignore each other. That agreement is only half followed by either of them, because neither would ignore a potential threat let alone one only several feet away, but entirely acknowledging each other, that has been a rarity. 

Itachi’s attention, thus, immediately distracts Neji. Itachi beckons Neji forward, watches as he approaches cautiously, and slides into a welcoming and yet simple beginning stance. 

A grin stretches across Neji’s lips. Without a word, he falls into his own. 

“No jutsu,” Itachi confirms quietly. They cannot afford to take those chances. Itachi’s health may be improved, but it would be foolish to risk his chakra on a bit of fun.

Neji nods, and wastes no extra time. 

Gentle palm is an extremely rapid hand technique that Itachi has had some opportunity to observe, but has never actually fought himself. He quickly finds himself at a disadvantage, as Neji is clearly holding back very little. Itachi is immediately forced to use his very slight advantage in speed to outpace his opponent. 

Shuriken are not off the table. Itachi rapidly analyzes Neji’s movements and puts the distance between them that he needs. A series of kunai throws confirm that Neji is aware of his long range disadvantage. He activates the byakugan, and Itachi considers his options. 

Near full range of vision. There are days when he would have done about anything for those eyes. His own, though, he can risk activating now. It is considerably easier to follow Neji’s strikes with the sharingan as Neji rushes him, hoping to close the distance. 

Itachi’s first instinct is a replacement, but he as already requested no jutsu, so that would be cheating. Instead he dodges, his eyes spinning in rhythm to Neji’s footwork. Neji turns with him, striking for his shoulder. Were Neji using his real techniques, Itachi knows that move could all but cripple him.

Neji doesn’t realize Itachi uses one-handed seals, so Itachi allows the hit, and Neji’s slight smirk of victory, before he presses his shoulder into Neji’s rather gentle strike, pulls Neji’s free arm downwards, and kicks his knee out from under him. Neji rolls with it, tumbling out of the way and to his feet as Itachi flicks a kunai in his direction. Neji knocks it away, but he doesn’t quite see the second or third as they collide and redirect towards his spine.

In fact, he doesn’t see them at all. Realizing what is about to happen, Itachi flings a fourth kunai over Neji’s shoulder. Neji, thinking Itachi has missed, rushes him, and lands a solid hit to Itachi’s gut that knocks the wind out of Itachi.

Two kunai clang. Neji turns his head very slightly. And stops. 

Itachi falls back, panting. Grinning. So the Hyuuga do have a blind spot. 

Which Neji silently acknowledges he has discovered, as he crouches warily, reading to begin again. 

Very well. 

“Would you care for tea?” Itachi offers, ten minutes later when they have both had enough of each other. He is breathing hard, but for once it doesn’t hurt. In fact, he is surprised by that. He is so used to his lungs burning that he expects any exertion to cause it. 

Sweat rolls beads down Neji’s face. He appears equally winded, but in no ill condition. He considers Itachi’s offer carefully. Then he nods. “That would be appreciated.” 

\-------

Two years later, Uchiha Itachi goes and does something that Neji considers rather rash. Namely, disappearing for several weeks only to return with a particularly formidable ex-Mist missing nin in tow. 

Which abruptly reminds Neji exactly who Itachi is and what he has done, and who he has been for most of his life. He has allowed himself to become complacent, he realizes, in their cordial interactions and occasional sparring, but this strange friend he has somehow cultivated is, regardless of Neji’s reluctant admiration for him, a criminal. 

With criminal accomplices. 

With a particular accomplice that Neji has encountered before and would frankly not like to again. 

Lee is the first person to inform him. “Have you heard! I have to tell Guy. He’ll be--” Neji has to grab Lee by the arms to get a straight answer out of him, that Hoshigaki Kisame is in Konoha and this time, he intends to stay. 

Neji meets Kisame again at Field 26. When he does, he has his team to back him as he did once before. For the first time, there is no particular need for animosity between them. 

Itachi and Kisame are talking when they arrive. From the back, Kisame doesn’t look like the intimidating figure Neji remembers. His posture is not relaxed, but nor is it aggressive. He looks oddly friendly, with his shoulders curved towards his partner and distance softening the points of his teeth behind his smile. 

At the crack of a twig, one Neji has done Itachi the courtesy of stepping on purposefully, Kisame turns, his hand reaching for what is likely a summoning patch on his wrist. Itachi lays a calm but expectant hand on his arm.

“If you wouldn’t mind sharing the area,” Neji requests, taking his cue from Itachi’s prompting nod. 

Suddenly there are more ninja training in Field 26 than there have been in a decade, and Neji finds himself rather comfortable with that. 

\------

Itachi is halfway certain that Neji’s distraction, as they spar, has absolutely nothing to do with him. Neji isn’t a fool, for one. Their taijutsu styles compliment each other because there are few others capable of the combination of precision and speed they both prefer, and that means that neither of them can afford to be careless. 

Distractions lead to unnecessary injuries. Neji fails to pull a hard palm strike to Itachi’s ribs, and Itachi grabs his wrist on instinct, flipping him over his shoulder. 

“You’re distracted.”

Neji, winded, stares up at him. And scowls darkly. “Uzumaki Naruto is dating my cousin.”

Ah. That’s….complicated.

Complicated because Naruto is already in a relationship with Itachi’s brother, and Sakura, and Itachi cannot be certain but he suspects Hinata is aware of this. No, she is aware of this. How is Sasuke handling this? 

Immediately Itachi’s thoughts turn towards his brother. Sasuke… is he alright with this? Does he even know? He takes so many long-range missions that Itachi wonders if he is even present to deal with this new development. 

Itachi knows his brother well. He can imagine his anger. His jealousy. He is not a man to accept change, especially in the form of a threat to his bonds with his teammates. As hard as he tried to resist them in his youth, they were the only things tying him to sanity. 

They still are. 

Neji watches a series of increasingly concerned emotions flicker through Itachi’s eyes and makes an offer. “Would you like to have a talk with him?”

Surprised, Itachi reminds him, “He is your friend, isn’t he?”

“He is also dating my cousin.” 

Well then. If that is the case then yes, Itachi would very much like to have a talk with Naruto about whatever the hell he is thinking, because Itachi can currently only imagine disasters in their future if he doesn’t. 

When they arrive at Sasuke’s house for this discussion, Sakura is there. 

They both walk out feeling vaguely ashamed of themselves for interfering. 

\--------

On the garden porch, Itachi hands Neji a cup of tea as their niece and nephew scamper wild through the yard. Himawari rests asleep on Neji’s lap, the soft whistle of her snores barely audible in the wind. Her little hand is clenched in Neji’s loose shirt; Itachi cautiously maneuvers so he can sit near without bothering her. 

Kisame hovers nearby talking with Sakura, who is home early from a light shift at the hospital, each of them with one eye for the children as they hop over the garden pond. Sarada is one step ahead of Boruto, and Itachi is entirely sure she is letting him catch up, a dangerous allowance that Boruto is sure to capitalize on eventually. 

“Lee is bringing his son tonight, if you intend to come,” Neji tells Itachi, accepting the tea. Itachi wonders what Kisame will think of that. He has grown strangely fond of Neji’s teammate. 

“We’ll be there around seven o’clock,” Itachi promises. “Are you absolutely sure you would like to test your eyes against mine?”

They’ve spared with their eyes active before, but neither have ever tested their full abilities against each other. The byakugan is less offensive than the sharingan, but Itachi is equally curious how they will interact with each other. He does not, however, wish to put Neji in a difficult position. 

“I think it will make for an interesting experiment.”

Hyuuga vs. Uchiha. Alright then. Itachi finds himself looking forward to it. 

If Neji is willing to trust his control, then so be it.


	22. Adapting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi has a run in with one Umino Iruka, and none of it goes how he expects it to.

It takes Itachi several tries to find a grocery store where he is not recognized. At first, when he moves out of his brother’s apartment, he doesn’t bother with trying to. There is little point in concealing himself, he thinks, because the percentage of citizens likely to recognize him is high. He can only hope enough of the shinobi involved have been briefed on his presence and will be willing to avoid confrontation. 

Even if Itachi were healthy enough to defend himself, he doesn’t want a confrontation. He has enough on his plate trying to piece the shaky shards of a life he never expected to live together. He has enough of a challenge facing him living on his own outside of his brother’s protection. 

But he can’t live in that apartment anymore. It is breaking them slowly to be so close. Itachi loves his brother, but he can see the damage he has wrought upon him in every startled morning glance, in Sasuke’s temper, in the potential they have to do each other further harm. Itachi cannot bear to harm his brother further, and so removing himself from that potential is all he can do. 

Of course Sasuke is unhappy with his decision. It is for the best. It isn’t as if Itachi has gone far. 

But it does mean that Itachi can no longer rely on his brother for certain mundane tasks. In some ways Itachi values that independence. He can live according to his own habits and routine without interference. 

He can’t justify having the items he needs delivered. He doesn't have the budget for it and he refuses to accept his brother’s charity. Which means he has to perform tasks that put him into randomized contact with people who know who he is and what he has done.

And who may or may not know he is not their enemy. 

Who may be willing to avenge his actions even if he isn’t. 

This first becomes sickeningly apparent upon Itachi’s first attempt to buy groceries. He tries the closest market first, because there is no reason not to. If something is going to happen, it is going to happen regardless of the effort he goes to to prevent it. As he is gathering the ingredients he needs for the night, he is unsurprised to hear a unsubtle cough behind him. 

The man he turns to face looks terrified. He’s holding his ground, but Itachi can see the tension singing through his body. The store owner is there hovering behind him, acid in her eyes.

Itachi cannot fault her for summoning help. She is only a civilian. She’d be no match against him. 

Before the man (a chunin Itachi suspects, for he doesn’t carry himself the way a more elite ninja would) can stammer out his intended demand, Itachi very slowly and carefully places the few items he has collected down. He does the store owner the courtesy of making sure they are not touching the ground, for she won’t be able to sell them if he puts them there.

Equally carefully, he extends his hands. 

It’s barely an offer of peace for a man like him. He could kill this man six ways before he could move. He could have a knife from his sleeve in his throat in a millisecond. His eyes could ensnare him in a nightmare with a blink. He….

A sudden terrifying realization settles in Itachi’s mind: this man could kill him far faster than he could react. 

And he has no idea. 

“I mean no harm,” Itachi tells them quietly, and backs away, thanking his dubious luck that the poor man confronting him is far too terrified to try anything. It gives Itachi the few moments he needs to remove himself from the situation. He gets as far as the next alley over, having left his bags behind, before the fear shaking his limbs finally overtakes him. 

He cannot defend himself. 

Trembling fingers run through the ends of his ponytail. Trembling. Weak. Yes he can still throw a kunai fast enough to kill, but accurately enough yet? His exercises haven’t yielded much luck there. He has lost a great deal of strength in his wrists and it will take time to rebuild enough for the precision such accuracy requires. 

He can’t use his eyes. Even if Sasuke insists he should be fine, the amount of chakra it would sap from him might kill him. It would certainly threaten him with relapse. 

He is, for all intents and purposes, nearly helpless. Nothing but time can fix that. Time he realizes he has not had enough of. 

He was so reckless leaving his brother’s side. He should have stayed. If he is injured, then Sasuke….

He resolves to take more care. Not every chunin he meets will be so afraid of him. His reputation cannot guarantee his safety. His physical health aside, he… he doesn’t want a confrontation. Not with Konoha shinobi. That part of his life is over. He has the chance to live a life beyond the criminal he was before, and the very idea of killing even one more person from this village eats a queasy hole in his gut. 

So he eats what he can find in his kitchen that night (nothing much, but there’s no one to nag him over it), and begins to seek out other options. He pays more careful attention to the reactions of patrons and employees when he enters a shop. It takes him three tries to find a grocery where the store owner either doesn’t recognize him or doesn’t care, and none of the patrons over two reconnaissance attempts seem to pay him any mind. It’s a little far from his apartment, but the walk will do him good. 

It does him some good to successfully manage his own affairs. It makes him feel as if he isn’t as weak as he knows he currently is. It’s an illusion he allows himself, because he cannot afford to rush, and even a minor success helps him to believe that there is hope for his future. That someday he might regain enough of his health to defend himself again. 

That he might be able to find Kisame and not be a burden to him. 

Itachi falls into a comfortable routine allowed by his careful observations and planning. Weekly checks with Sakura confirm his slowly improving health. He is allowed to up his training regimen slightly, and he earns a few options for his own self defense. Nothing that will protect him against a ninja of jounin caliber, but enough to handle a single chunin. It is fortunate that most of his prefered techniques are designed to minimize physical stress to his body. 

Before that was necessary because his body was failing him. Now it is necessary because he must allow it to recover. And once he is able to regain the required flexibility and strength, he is still far faster with a kunai than most ninja he has encountered. 

His improved capabilities lead to work he doesn’t realize he desperately needs. Meaningful work. He cannot thank Kakashi enough for what he has offered. Investigations may require him to converse with people who are unlikely to take kindly to him, but the chance to bring some reasonable justice to those who deserve it soothes some lingering anxieties he has concerning his homeland. 

He begins to feel his opportunity for a new life is more than a dream. 

“You’re not someone I’d expect to see here.” 

In the grocery, Itachi finds himself confronted with a man he had no particular expectation of seeing. It takes him a moment to recognize him, but Umino Iruka graduated the Academy the year before him, and he was something of a mischievous legend. The scar across his nose is incredibly distinctive, and thus it takes Itachi less than a moment to identify him despite nearly a decade between this and their last meeting. 

Upon recognizing him, Itachi immediately resigns himself to finding a new place to shop. Even if he hadn’t already addressed him, Iruka cannot possibly fail to identify Itachi on sight. 

So Itachi pulls his items together and passes his former upperclassman with a quick and quiet, “Excuse me.” 

The lady at the register looks at him strangely as he pays, and as he as he grabs his purchases and hurries for the door. 

Iruka follows him. That would just be Itachi’s luck.

Itachi ducks around a corner and looks for a near handhold, a perch he can use to get himself away quickly. His legs burn unpleasantly as he leaps for a nearby rooftop. He winces, but he doesn’t feel the strain in his chakra pathways that he might have a month ago. At the very least he should be able to make his way through the interconnected pathways that are Konoha’s rooftops for a ninja of any reasonable skill.

“You forgot this.” 

Itachi stills. Turns. 

Umino Iruka is on the edge of the roof just behind him holding one of his shopping bags. He landed so quietly that even Itachi didn’t hear his feet hit the cement. So far as he knows, Iruka has never earned a rank above chunin. He shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, or he wouldn’t be if Itachi were not in his current state. In theory, Itachi might not be able to outrun him, but he should be able to escape him. 

There is something about his poise that puts Itachi on edge more than a chunin should. 

“You know, there are a lot of things I’ve wanted to say to you.” Of course Iruka holds Itachi’s groceries hostage. 

“I have no interest in a confrontation.” Itachi considers leaving without them, but they’re right there and he realizes half of his dinner is effectively trapped there too. He wouldn’t face too much consequence for leaving it, but if he can get it back that would be preferable.

Iruka tilts his head to the side. The patient set of his mouth is little like the troublemaker Itachi remembers, but he can still see a hint of mischief in it. 

Perhaps he should leave his groceries behind. Worse than a confrontation, he has no intention of allowing himself to be played with for anyone’s amusement.

“I do make it my business to know the sorts of people Naruto is hanging out with. Especially if they’re S-class criminals. I’m not going to let you hurt him.” 

Such confidence. It’s almost arrogant, and Iruka seems to realize that, because he looks aside and scratches at his nose with a nervous and very honest sort of bashfulness. “I mean, you could probably kill me easily enough, but…”

Somehow Itachi has reason to doubt that. “What do you want with me Umin--” Itachi hesitates. For the familiarity. Because they have known each other before. Not well, but enough that the old habits built in childhood, in their school days, take hold regardless of Itachi’s intentions. Itachi’s mouth clicks shut, because what has passed since the short time they spent anywhere near each other’s company is so much and so dark that Itachi has long since become a man who does not deserve such familiarity. 

He should go. He doesn’t need those groceries, not that badly. Iruka will let him leave if he insists, he thinks. He doesn’t understand why he hesitates. 

Or why Iruka is suddenly approaching him. Why would he? Why does he care? What does he want? 

Iruka approaches cautiously. As if he is approaching a skittish predator, and not another ninja. “There really are a lot of things I want to say to you.” The tone of his voice is both patient and disappointed in a way Itachi thought only his father could ever achieve with such effectiveness. “You know I taught Sasuke, at the Academy.”

An Academy teacher? 

Oddly, that suites him. 

“What you did to him….”

Itachi looks away. Feels the wretched guilt of his actions like an acute and painful wound. But he deserves that. He chose to do what he did. He chose the method by which he would ensure his brother’s survival. It wasn’t fair to him. None of it was, and the consequences of that are his to bear. 

“Thank you, for taking care of him,” he manages. He cannot help that the consequences of his actions have spilled onto others, but he can accept their anger. He can accept their accusations.

“If you do anything like that again. If you hurt him, or Naruto, or any of my students.” He says ‘my’ with such a fierce possessiveness. “How, Itachi?” His voice rises. “Naruto insisted you were ordered. How could you accept that? What the hell were you thinking?”

His groceries do not matter. They aren’t worth it. He doesn’t owe this man answers, and it seems Iruka has a plentiful source of them as is. Itachi would be offended that Naruto seems to have told him Itachi’s story, but from the possessive affection in Iruka’s voice he suspects Iruka is the only person Naruto might have told so easily.

Well, the only person who didn’t already know. 

Itachi swallows every response he thinks of, every defense. Every excuse. He doesn’t have any. He has promised himself he won’t make them for what he has done. No matter the reason, he chose his fate. The blood on his hands is his responsibility and his alone. 

He looks at Iruka, this man he knew as a child. Because he grabbed everyone’s attention with his pranks, he nonsense, his remarkably clever tricks. Always searching for attention, but Itachi knew even then it was because he was alone. Though he could never outwardly say it, Itachi remembers some admiration for the skill his plans must have taken, and he knows he should not underestimate Iruka, despite his rank.

With a polite bow, he lets Iruka’s accusations wash over him. He pushes them aside like he does all of them. “I have no intention of causing them further harm.” He turns to leave. 

Those frighteningly quiet feet carry Iruka to his side before he can take a single step. It is incredibly dangerous to come up behind a ninja, or to touch one already on edge, especially someone of Itachi’s caliber. 

Iruka does just this, with remarkable speed, skill and a complete lack of hesitation. He lays a careful but warning hand on Itachi. “You’re a fucking mess.” He shoves Itachi’s groceries into his hands before Itachi can reach for a knife.

Itachi stares at him, speechless. 

“Is that really all you’re eating?” Then Itachi is vaguely offended. What’s wrong with what he’s eating? “Aren’t you still on regular medical checks? Come with me.” 

Itachi snatches his hand back from Iruka. “What are you doing?” 

Iruka looks at him. Then points a finger in his face. “You, are going to take me to your apartment. You are going to show me what is in your fridge. You are going to sit yourself down and eat a decent meal and then I am going to make sure you have what you need to make more yourself. Naruto was right, you haven’t been eating enough. Look at you!” 

Naruto sent him. Itachi is utterly mortified. “I can care for myself just fine,” he snaps. Who is Iruka to question him?

“You just told me you have no intention of hurting Sasuke again,” Iruka challenges him. “What happens if you get sick again?” He knows about that too. What didn’t Naruto tell him? “Do you really think that won’t hurt your brother just as much?” 

Itachi hesitates. Fumes. “Why do you care?” It can’t be for his sake. He hasn’t seen Iruka in years, and they were never more than acquaintances. They recognize each other because of proximity and nothing more. 

“Sasuke was my student. Of course I care.” 

Of course he cares. 

It’s that simple. 

It is nowhere near that simple, but in Iruka’s eyes Itachi reads that for him, it is. 

He also reads the stubborn flicker of insistence in Iruka’s eyes that suggests he is not going to take no for an answer. That he cares for Sasuke as his teacher… Iruka is an Academy teacher. It occurs to Itachi that he has no frame of reference for what to think of that. By the time he left the village….

...no he still wouldn’t have any idea what Iruka was doing. 

But he has cared for Itachi’s brother, despite the injuries Itachi left him with. And now, for some strange (not so strange, but not understandable, certainly) reason he is proposing to do the same for Itachi. 

Itachi has no idea how to deal with this turn of events. 

“Take me to your apartment,” Iruka prompts. 

Itachi, so out of his depth that he is lost for other options, does as he is told. 

He will leave dealing with the realization that he has let a chunin teacher dictate his life for later, because he cannot currently make sense of any of it.


	23. A Cup of Tea and Silence Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their family is what they make of it.

Hinata arrives home from her latest mission exhausted, and guilty for her instinctual desire to ask her sister whether she can care for the children one more day. It has been a particularly hectic week. Naruto is out of the village on Kage business. Sakura has taken an emergency call from Iwa. Itachi tells them that Sasuke’s most recent mission won’t bring him home for at least another week. Between the four of them, even given Sasuke’s frequent absences, they can usually work out a rotation that allows at least one of them to be home each evening, but….

The entryway is dark. Hinata toes off her shoes and sets them aside, feeling as if every cell in her body is worn to a thread. The sun has already begun to set; she should call Hanabi, tell her she is home, ask her to bring the children around. She wants to see her little ones, hug them and let them welcome her home. She wants to just tip herself over onto the couch with no responsibilities to worry over, just the quiet to keep her company. She wants a bath. A long, steaming hot bath to wipe off the stench and dirt of the road. 

There is a cloak on the hook that isn’t there usually. 

Instinct and habitual caution overtaker her. She summons her byakugan to scan the house, too weary to take in the cloak’s details, just its suggestion that it implies an intruder.

She is stopped by a familiar voice. “I got home a little early.” Sasuke is in the entryway. His arm props him against the corner of the wall with a casual grace that softens his lanky frame. He’s home. That in itself is a surprise, and Hinata’s face must indicate that.

“I’ve made dinner,” Sasuke beckons. “There’s extra.” 

Hinata could not possibly be more grateful. “You cooked?” She isn’t sure when she became comfortable enough to needle Sasuke for his eccentricities, but perhaps she is just tired enough now that she doesn’t hesitate. He smiles at her, that little quirk of a smug grin that both reminds her of her cousin and doesn’t, because there is an arrogant edge to it that Neji does not share and makes it all Sasuke’s own.

“And made tea even.” 

Hinata is more than willing to accept. 

Sitting at the table with Sasuke is a silent activity. Hinata savors the simple soup Sasuke has made and enjoys the rare quiet, and better yet the comfort of it, as she allows her guilt and her fears to float away. Sasuke sips his tea with his eyes closed. The soft trill of a nightingale is all that breaks the silence between them, but it is enough to remind Hinata of the time. 

“I should call my sister.” She stands and moves for the hallway. 

Sasuke catches her arm gently. “Neji was in the office when I checked in. They’re spending the night.” 

Anxiety tightens Hinata’s throat, but somehow Sasuke soothes it with his light touch. “They’re safe and happy,” he tells her. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a night to rest.” 

It is completely selfish of her to want that. Her first instinct is to think it wrong of her to want that. 

But she is so, so tired. Running from Konoha to Sunagakure on the trail of two missing nin with concealment specialties and a stolen scroll of secrets, she has no energy left to even contemplate her responsibilities beyond a bath and bed. If Sakura or Naruto were home, that would be different. There would be someone there to lighten the load. Sarada and Boruto are old enough to mostly care for themselves now, but they still need her. She can only feel inadequate as a mother, as she considers allowing them to stay in their loving aunt’s care another night.

Sasuke is always gentle when he holds her. Between the two of them, there is little attraction beyond the simple enjoyment of each other’s company, and the pleasure of gentle gestures of affection, but Sasuke still acts, sometimes, as if merely putting his arms around her is a privilege he hasn’t earned. 

Hinata allows herself to lean her head on his shoulder and let him bear her exhaustion. She knows he relishes the trust implicit in such gestures more than anything else. 

“I’ll pick them up in the morning,” he generously offers. They’ll be thrilled. He hasn’t been home in nearly a month. Sarada and Boruto are two months into their first year at the Academy. They’ll have such stories for him. 

The strangest thing is that is an improvement for him. Not a few years ago it would have been months in plural between his homecomings. What will Naruto think, Hinata wonders, when she tells him Sasuke has come home early? 

He’ll be so jealous if Sasuke isn’t here when he returns. Perhaps she can convince Sasuke to stay just long enough for that. 

She stifles a yawn.

“Go to bed,” Sasuke whispers to her. “I’ll be here in the morning.” Hinata mumbles something about a bath and allows herself to be just the slightest bit selfish as he laughs. “Fine.” 

He’ll be here in the morning. 

Sasuke brings a cup of tea into their bedroom as Hinata lays herself down in the luxurious comfort of their bed. She dozes as he reads, a dim light in the corner warming the room. 

When he finally comes to bed, he curls himself around her as if she is a precious warmth he is incapable of resisting. In his arms she savors a comfort she did not expect to have when she returned, and a peace she desperately needs. 

Perhaps he’s right, she does deserve a rest. Guilty though she might feel, she will be all the better for a good night’s sleep and Sasuke’s presence in the morning. She falls asleep infinitely grateful that she has someone in her life to remind her of that, even if he isn’t home as often as she might like.


	24. Not a Demon in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisame’s experience with children is as nothing more than the monster under their beds. The idea that he might be something else? That is baffling.

Kisame’s experience with children comes down to this: small figures huddled behind their parents’ legs, fearful whispers and pattering feet, and stories he hears from half-drunk and complaining adults about his usefulness as a night-time boogeyman. It’s easy enough to get a small child who hasn’t yet seen the horrors of their world to bed if they think the Monster of the Hidden Mist will eat them if they sneak out. 

That was then. 

That was years ago. 

Between Kirigakure and his life in Akatsuki, children were never more than a passing complication to his work. Now, in his new life in Konoha, it seems he may have to interact with one or more of them on a regular basis. 

The first time Boruto sees him and is capable of recognizing his face, he bursts into tears. That, Kisame decides, bodes about as well as he can expect. He almost feels impressed by the fact that little Sarada does not cry, but only watches him with rapt fascination with those big, dark, Uchiha eyes of hers. 

“Don’t worry,” Naruto laughs, patting his son’s back as he shifts him on one hip, mostly ignoring his cries. “Kids. He thinks just about everything’s scary.” 

There’s this tiny, surprisingly understanding little quirk of a smile on Itachi’s lips later, when he choses to sooth the discomfort Kisame doesn’t realize he’s feeling. “Sasuke cried the first time he saw me with the Sharingan,” Itachi tells him. “Naruto isn’t wrong. Children find most things that are unfamiliar to them frightening until they have the experience to believe otherwise.”

Experience. Kisame can relate to that. He finds the prospect of interacting with children in any personal capacity a little more frightening than he thinks he should. He’s an adult. A ninja. Interacting with a one year old shouldn’t make him nervous. 

What if he breaks them?

What if he frightens them too much?

Itachi affectionately leans his head against Kisame’s shoulder. “It bothers you because you care whether they favor you.”

It surprises Kisame to realize that yeah, he kind of does. 

He isn’t sure how that happened. But he does. 

\--------

Two years later, Itachi and Kisame are visiting for an evening dinner. Boruto and Sarada chase each other across the yard on stubby and uncoordinated legs, tripping and tumbling and rolling through scrapes and laughter. They’re resilient kids. It’s fun to watch them. 

There’s an innocence to their play that Kisame finds soothing, for there is no ulterior motive, no secret training. They’re three years old and they’re just playing for playing’s sake. Perhaps someday the skills they learn in their play will turn to tactical advantages, but for now there is nothing more than the grass and the trees and their laughter. 

Kisame sips his sake and finds himself watching with more attention than he expects.

As Sarada turns to dash over the bridge of their small pond. 

As Boruto follows her.

Turns his ankle against a cobblestone.

Slips. 

Kisame notices the ripple of tension spread from one parent to the next as each of them spring into immediate action and he just reacts, instinct warning him instantly that at three years old, Boruto cannot possibly know how to swim adequately yet. Not here in Konoha where they don’t teach children to swim before they walk like they damn well should. 

His palm hits the ground the instant Sasuke’s feet leave it. 

Water sprays up from the pond as Kisame’s smallest shark materializes and catches Boruto’s collar in its sharp little teeth. It drags the boy to the edge of the pond. Boruto hasn’t even had time to accidently suck in a breath of water before he is rescued. Instead he lays on the edge stunned and wet.

He starts to cry. 

Kisame’s little shark nudges his foot, distracting him as Sasuke alights on the ground at his side and ruffles a hand through his wet hair. “You’re safe,” he tells the boy. 

Sarada scampers over, red-faced. “Boruto, you okay?”

Hiccupping through his tears, Boruto only has eyes for Kisame’s summon nudging at his feet. “Shark?” he asks. 

Kisame isn’t sure what to do.

“Go.” Itachi nudges him. “Talk to him.” 

So he does. 

Awkwardly he hunches at Sasuke’s side, as Sasuke patiently observes his actions with an air of wary tension, and his family hovers nearby.

“Yeah kid,” Kisame tells Boruto. “She’s a friend of mine.” 

Boruto’s hiccups slow. Fade into fascinated wonder. “C-can I touch her?” he asks quietly. He reaches a hand out, but hesitates. 

“Sure.” Kisame attempts an awkward smile, and is rewarded with one as bright as the sun.

\--------

It turns out it is just Kisame’s luck that Itachi’s nephew has a knack for water jutsu and has been fascinated by sharks since he was three years old. 

That second part might entirely be Kisame’s fault, and thus Sakura not-so-jokingly informs him that he should take responsibility. Hinata mentions in passing that water talents are not unusual amongst the Hyuuga, but that they are often passed over in favor of the clan’s traditional skills, and so she may be the reason for Boruto’s talent. The real complication is that no one in their immediate family actually has any real aptitude for water jutsu.

“Can you teach me to summon a shark? Pleeeease?”

And that. He has a six year old asking him to teach him to summon sharks. Of course the kid has no idea what summoning contracts are or mean or what kind of responsibility they include. Of course he doesn’t consider that sharks are unforgiving predators. Of course all he sees is something cool that his friends can’t do, but that he wants to try. 

“Let’s start you on the basics first kiddo.” Kisame pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten. Patience. He’s six years old. Yes, Kisame’s pretty sure he wasn’t like this at six himself, but given his personal history, it’s probably for the best that Boruto’s not much like he was. One year from entering the Academy, Kisame had already signed his summoning contract and knew enough of his family’s secret jutsu to save their knowledge from what was to come. 

And to prove himself useful enough to the powers-that-be to spare his life when his family was deemed too dangerous to live. 

Konoha today is a very, very different place from the world he grew up in. It’s a place where a child of Boruto’s age can afford to be immature and to wait to learn to wield the very forces of nature as weapons until he is actually capable of understanding the power he holds. Or at least until he has memories of a safe and peaceful life without them.

“Can I try too?” Sarada asks. She isn’t shy about it. Her eyes shift to the side, a subtle show of thoughtful curiosity that reminds Kisame of Itachi. “I know I might not be good at it, but…” She’s considering her options. She’s curious.

She’s an Uchiha, which says a lot about the likelihood of her having an affinity for water. Itachi has learned water jutsu over the years, but they never come easily to him. Kisame can’t say he remembers seeing his partner visibly frustrated often in their early years together, but practicing water jutsu he copied off of Kisame seemed to be among the few regular things that brought him to it. 

“Fine,” Kisame tells her. “Let’s meet by the river in fifteen minutes.” 

He does Naruto the courtesy of warning him where they’re going. “There’s a shallow spot near the waterfall, you could try that,” Naruto suggests with a hint of fond nostalgia. “My teacher took me there.”

Kisame’s been there. He’s been along most of the river. There’s only so many bodies of water nearby. Usually when he goes, he goes alone. Itachi doesn’t like certain parts of it, for reasons he has alluded to and Kisame has pieced together over time, and so while he tells Itachi where he and the children will be, he isn’t surprised when Itachi declines to follow. 

He is voluntarily taking responsibility for two six year old children. This is an aspect of his life and future that he never, ever considered. It’s….

Easier than he expects.

More terrifying than he expects. 

Boruto’s enthusiasm is catching, but frustrating. He wants all of the answers right now, an immediate perfect jutsu that he doesn’t have to work to perform. With Sarada beside him his frustration is toned down to muttering, simply because she is someone he doesn’t want to fail in front of. 

He respects his sister, and so he doesn’t want her to see him give up. That alone is reason enough for Kisame to allow her along. Even if the simplest suiton does, predictably, blow up in her face.

She’ll learn eventually. 

“Look!” Boruto cries out excitedly as a limp stream of water rises tiredly from the river and then flops back in place. “It moved!”

Nothing perfect, but it’s a start. “Keep at it,” Kisame tells him. “You will have to master more than that jutsu before I consider introducing you to my sharks.”

Rather than be dismayed, Boruto’s eyes catch a glimmer of fire within them. Kisame sees it, appreciates it, and grins. 

The boy takes his words as the challenge they are.

And somehow, it works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I vaguely promised something involving Kisame interacting with the kids. 
> 
> I do have a few more scenes I haven't posted yet in my cue, but given I've mostly stopped writing new ones, I'll be posting the rest of them gradually until I run out.


	25. Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishida Yumi is 90% certain that if her surveillance assignment is offering her tea, she has failed at her job.

When Ishida Yumi is assigned protection and surveillance for one notorious criminal Uchiha Itachi, she is certain that she has done something pretty serious to piss her boss off. That, or the Hokage is looking at her for a promotion, which might mean the same thing. 

Either way, she has been ANBU for just under a year, has ten successful missions under her belt, and she has just been given either the most difficult or the easiest assignment of her shiny new career. She doesn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. 

She knows her target, of course. Former ANBU, child prodigy, insane mass murderer, except apparently that’s not quite true. 

Currently hospitalized indefinitely under medical observation. There is no apparent date set for his release. If the records she has been given are correct, he is barely in any condition to walk, let alone even notice her presence. 

Her partner, Sasaki Eriko, is laughing at her from behind her doe mask as Yumi politely accepts the assignment. 

“So you’re the one stuck with me, are you kid?” Eriko cannot see Yumi’s scowl, but she has been ANBU for longer than Yumi has been a ninja. “Don’t worry. I think you just earned yourself a vacation.

Vacation doesn’t begin to cover it. Monitoring Uchiha Itachi is a joke. For a man reported to be one of Konoha’s most dangerous, he seems remarkably fragile. He hasn’t even noticed them yet, or if he has he’s given no noticeable indication. 

He takes no notice of them for more than a year, during which Yumi and her partner watch this ex-missing nin pick up the loose threads of a life he has clearly never really had. They also find themselves privy to the less unobservant warnings of some of Konoha’s most famous. Eriko has a little booklet in which she has written every threat she has received from everyone from Uzumaki Naruto to Uchiha Sasuke himself. She keeps them like a collection, and shows them off to their coworkers, because, “what else am I supposed to do?”

The day their mark’s former Akatsuki partner shows up in town nearly gives Yumi a heart attack, because of course he notices. He’s very polite about it. “Please be assured, if anything happens to him I will look to you first.”

Very polite about it. Yumi has no doubt of his honesty. Good thing her assignment is surveillance only. She doesn’t like the prospect of dealing with the surprising number of people who seem to have made it their personal mission to keep Uchiha Itachi alive. 

They know what he’s done. They know what he is. That they defend him so baffles her, but who is she to judge? This is just a job. 

It’s a damned easy job; Itachi doesn’t make a single attempt to escape them. 

It is also a frustratingly long job. “He’s not going anywhere, sir,” Yumi once protests when the Hokage extends her detail. She could be running A-ranked missions instead. She’d like to be, really. Her friends have mission lists three times hers at this point. 

“Maintain your mission,” he warns her. 

Why, Yumi wonders? What’s the point. Itachi clearly isn’t a threat if he can’t even tell he is being followed. 

Until he does. 

“Would you like something to drink?”

It is a year and two months into Yumi’s exceedingly long detail when Itachi speaks to her the first time. He sneaks up on her. Her specialty is chakra concealment, and he sneaks up on her. She nearly jumps off the roof. “Ms. Squirrel?” He addresses her mask identity politely, which reminds her that he’s worn a mask like this before. 

“Mr. Uchiha?”

The tiniest quirk of a smile turns his lips. “It’s an honest offer. For your partner too.” 

Well, since he has obviously worked them out, “we’re on duty.” 

“Very well.” 

He asks again the next night. 

And the next. 

“Hokage, sir, he’s offering us tea.”

The Hokage laughs. “Good. Then you’ve got maybe three months left. You can take him up on his offer if you like.” 

What the hell kind of assignment is this?

Yumi and her partner have been following Uchiha Itachi since he first woke in Konoha, and thus they are fully aware of the new task the Hokage has given him. They have orders not to intervene except in the case of a deadly threat, and so for the most part they watch and report Itachi’s activities as he investigates minor criminals around Konoha. 

As Hyuuga Neji, and occasionally Uzumaki Naruto, tag along as his aids. 

It is in the aftermath of one of these arrests that Yumi finally figures out the Hokage’s true purpose in extending their assignment this long. 

The arrest is a bad one. Itachi is exhausted, his chakra near depleted, and Hyuuga Neji is in only marginally better shape. They are hauling each other through Konoha’s back streets, having left a detail of personally selected chunin to bring their targets in. 

Yumi senses a burst of chakra nearby. Neji stills, his hand tightening on the arm Itachi has draped over his shoulder. “We’re being followed.” 

Neither of them are in any shape for a confrontation. Yumi doesn’t care how powerful the pair of them are supposed to be, they can’t handle this. She quickly forms the seals to summon one of her squirrels into existence, and sends it with a message to headquarters. Eriko appears beside her silently. _Three ahead, two west, behind that building._

Yumi can hear Itachi’s clipped curse. “They’re former Mist.” 

_Ex-Mist ninja? Here?_ Yumi signs to Eriko. 

_Uchiha’s old partner is former Mist. Why not?_

Despite their injuries, Neji and Itachi form up at each other’s backs as if they’ve practiced this. It’s unnervingly natural, given Yumi has watched these two interact for less than a year. 

This is why the Hokage assigned them this mission, Yumi realizes abruptly, as their, yes their opponents form up around them. Five brazen ex-Mist missing ninja. Of course Itachi would have enemies. Of course they would come looking for him eventually.

Of course Itachi would not yet be able to defend himself when they do. 

Yumi draws her sword and allows herself to seriously hate her Hokage’s games for a moment. 

The Mist-nin make their move. Two appear in the street, cornering off Neji and Itachi’s easy exits. Eriko signals to her as the other three circle around. Those three, that’s their job. Their charge might be in bad shape, but he is an ex-S-class missing nin himself, right? Surely he can hold two assholes off for a moment while they handle this. 

Yumi’s target doesn’t even see her coming. That’s the point; she takes every advantage of it. Dumbass, not watching his back in an enemy village. 

“Uchiha! What are you--” Yumi jumps to the rooftop in time to see her charge take a hard knee. One of their two attackers is on the ground. Yumi watches Neji execute a spinning kick that knocks the second down with him followed by two quick jabs to his ribs and throat. He probably won’t be getting up anytime soon.

Itachi’s victim, though, is struggling to his feet. 

Yumi jumps him, slicing down his spine from behind before he can stand up. She whips her blade clean with a hard flick. 

Itachi allows himself to sag to the ground as if an enormous weight has been laid upon him. He’s ex-ANBU, Yumi knows. He can’t be entirely surprised by her intervention, and indeed when he looks up at her, it is not with hostility, nor anger, but resignation. “Thank you,” he tells her. 

Neji casts a look between them that is simultaneously unreadable and a riot of uncomfortable emotions Yumi doesn’t have time for.

Itachi staggers to his feet. “If you wouldn’t mind alerting central intelligence, we can make our way to the hospital.” 

Yumi hesitates, because someone has to deal with these missing nin. Having enemy ninja in the village, that means investigations and debriefing, and all sorts of paperwork. Wasn’t this job supposed to be easy? 

But her job is to keep an eye on this man. 

Or is that her job. She isn’t sure anymore. Perhaps she needs to ask the Hokage to clarify, but she suspects that will be an exercise in frustration. 

Uchiha Itachi is arguably the most dangerous single person Yumi has ever met. Right now he is on his knees, watching her as if he is expecting her mistrust.

She has been watching him for a year. Above her, on the roof, Eriko signs to her, Backup incoming. 

“Go,” Yumi makes her decision. “We’ll clean up here.” And hopefully the Hokage won’t kill her later. 

Neji helps his partner to his feet. Itachi nods to her. “We’ll be waiting for you.” They limp off, a rather pathetic pair in the dark streets. Yumi wonders whether she’s done the right thing, but she has little more time to debate. Their backup arrives, and it’s a mess of cleaning up the bodies, shipping their living victim to T&I, and debriefing. By the time they make it back to their assignment, Yumi is beat. She waves Eriko off home. Only one of them needs night duty anyway. 

“Come in.” 

Itachi meets her on the rooftop as if he’s been expecting her. His fingers are bandaged, and he looks pale. Worn thin. But comfortable. 

“I’m on duty,” she reminds him. 

“I have tea.” 

Oh, well then. 

Maybe just this time.


End file.
